Transcriber's Notes: The [Table of Contents] is at the end of this volume. A complete [list] of corrections as well as other notes follows the text.

Amadis of Gaul,

by

VASCO LOBEIRA.

IN FOUR VOLUMES.
VOL. II.

LONDON:
Printed by N. Biggs, Crane-court, Fleet-street,
FOR T. N. LONGMAN AND O. REES, PATERNOSTER
ROW.

1803.

AMADIS of GAUL.
Book the First.

CHAPTER 36.

Amadis and Galaor were within two leagues of London when they saw Ardian the Dwarf coming towards them as fast as horse could gallop. Never trust me, quoth Amadis, if he comes not with the news of some great mishap to seek us. Presently the Dwarf came up and related all his tidings, and how Oriana was carried away. Holy Mary, help me! cried Amadis: which way did they take her?—By the city is the nearest road. Amadis immediately spurred his horse, and gallopped amain towards London, so confounded with the terror of this news that he never spoke word to Galaor, who followed him full speed. They passed close by the town without stopping a minute, only Amadis enquired of all he saw which way the Princess had been taken; but as Gandalin passed under the windows where the Queen and

her Ladies were, the Queen called him, and threw the King's sword to him, which was the best sword that ever Knight girded on; take it to your Master, quoth she, and God speed him with it! and tell Galaor that the King went from hence with a Damsel this morning, and is not yet returned, and we know not where she has led him. Gandalin took the sword and rode as fast as he could after Amadis, who coming to a brook missed the bridge in his hurry, and forcing the horse to leap the tired animal fell short into the mud; then Gandalin came up to him and gave him the sword, and the horse which he himself rode. Presently they turned aside from the road to follow the track of horsemen, and there they saw some woodmen, who asked them if they came from London, for if a Knight and a Damsel be missing there, said they, we have seen an adventure; and then they told them what they had beheld. Who is it that has taken them? quoth Amadis; for he knew it was Lisuarte by the description. They answered, the Damsel who led the Knight here called loudly for Arcalaus. Lord God! quoth Amadis: let me but find that traitor!—The woodmen then told them how the party had separated, and said that one of the five Knights who went with the Damsel was the biggest Knight they had ever seen. Amadis knew that that was

Arcalaus; and bidding Galaor follow where the King went, he spurred on after Oriana. By sunset the horse could carry him no farther, and he being greatly distressed, saw a little to the right of the road a Knight lying dead, and a Squire by him holding his horse. Who slew that Knight? cried Amadis. A traitor that passed by, carrying the fairest Damsel in the world by force, and he slew my master only for asking who they were, and here is no one to help me to remove the body.—My Squire shall help you: give me your master's horse: I promise to give you two better in return. He told Gandalin to follow him after the body was disposed of, and gallopped on. Towards day-break he came to a hermitage in a valley, and asked the Hermit if he had seen five Knights pass carrying with them two Damsels? Do you see yonder castle? he replied: my nephew tells me that Arcalaus the Enchanter is lodged there, and with him two fair Damsels whom he hath taken by violence. By God the very villain whom I seek!—He hath done much evil in this land, replied the Hermit. God remove him, or mend him!—Then Amadis asked him if he had any barley for his horse; and, while the horse was feeding, enquired who was the Lord of the castle. Grumen, said the good man, cousin to Dardan who was slain in Lisuarte's

court, and therefore the King's enemies put up there. Now God be with you, father! quoth Amadis; I beseech you remember me in your prayers! which way to the castle?—Amadis followed the path which the good man had pointed out, and came up to it, and saw that the wall was high and the towers strong. He listened and could hear no sound within, and that pleased him, for he knew that Arcalaus was not gone forth; and he rode round, and saw that it had only one issue. Then he retired among some crags, and, dismounting, stood holding the bridle, and with his eyes fixed upon the gate, like one who had no will to sleep. By this the morning broke, and he removed farther across a valley to a hill that was well wooded, for he feared that if those of the castle saw him they would suspect there were others at hand, and therefore not come out. Presently the gate opened, and a Knight came out, and went to a high eminence and looked all round; then returned into the castle. It was not long before he saw Arcalaus and his four companions come out, all well armed, and among them Oriana. Ah, God! quoth he, now and for ever help me in her defence! They drew near him, and he heard Oriana say, Dear friend, I shall never see thee more, for I go to my death. The tears came

into his eyes; he descended the hill as fast as he could, and came after them into a great plain, and then cried, Arcalaus! traitor! it becomes not one like thee to carry away so excellent a Lady! Oriana knew the voice, and shook all over; but Arcalaus and the others ran at him. He took his aim at Arcalaus, and bore him right over the crupper; then turned his horse and smote at Grumen, so that the point and part of the stave of the spear came out at his back, and he fell down dead, and the spear broke in him. Then he drew the King's sword, and laid about with such rage and violence, and felt such strength in himself, that he thought if the whole plain were full of Knights they could not stand before him. We are succoured! quoth the Damsel of Denmark: it is the fortunate Knight! look at the wonders he performeth! Ah God protect thee, dear friend! cried Oriana: none other in the world can save us. The Squire who had her in his keeping seeing what had passed, cried out, Certes I shall not wait till those blows come upon my head which shields and helmets cannot resist! and he put the princess down, and rode off full speed. By this Amadis had cut thro' the arm of another, and sent him away howling with the agony of death; and he cleft a third down to the neck. The fourth began to fly, and

Amadis was after him, when he heard his Lady cry; and looking round, saw that Arcalaus had mounted again, and was dragging her up by the arm. Amadis soon came up to them, and lifting up his sword dared not put forth his strength lest he should slay both, but with a half-blow he smote him on the shoulder, and cut away part of the cuirass and the skin; then Arcalaus let Oriana fall, that he might escape the better. Turn, Arcalaus, cried Amadis, and see if I be dead as thou hast reported! but he in fear of death spurred on, and threw his shield from off his neck for speed. The blow made at him just reached his loins with the sword-end, and fell upon the horse's flank and wounded it, so that the beast rode away more furiously. Amadis, albeit he so hated the Enchanter, did not pursue him further, lest he should lose his mistress, he turned towards her, and alighted and knelt before her, and kissed her hand, saying, now let God do with me what he will! I never thought to see you again. She being among the dead was in great terror, and could not speak, but she embraced him. The Damsel of Denmark going to hold his horse saw the sword of Arcalaus on the ground, and admiring its beauty gave it to Amadis; but he seeing it was right glad thereof, for it was King Perion's sword which had been placed in his cradle,

and which Arcalaus had taken when he enchanted him. Presently Gandalin came up, who had travelled all night long: a joyful man was he seeing how the quest had ended.

Amadis then placed Oriana upon the Damsels palfrey, while Gandalin caught one of the loose horses for the Damsel, and taking her bridle they left the place of battle. But Amadis as they went along reminded Oriana how she had promised to be his; hitherto, said he, I have known that it was not in your power to show me more favour than you did; but now that you are at full liberty, how should I support disappointments without the worst despair that ever destroyed man! Dear friend, quoth she, never for my sake shall you suffer, for I am at your will: though it be an error and a sin now, let it not be so before God.—When they had proceeded about three leagues they entered a thick wood, and about a league farther there was a town. Oriana, who had not slept a wink since she left her father's house, complained of fatigue: let us rest in that valley, said Amadis. There was a brook there and soft herbage; there Amadis took her from her palfrey: the noon, said he, is coming on very hot, let us sleep here till it be cooler, and meantime Gandalin shall go bring us food from the

town. He may go, replied Oriana, but who will give him food?—They will give it him for his horse, which he may leave in pledge, and return on foot. No: said Oriana, let him take my ring, which was never before so useful: and she gave it to Gandalin, who, as he went by Amadis, said to him, he who loses a good opportunity, Sir, must wait long before he find another. Oriana laid herself down upon the Damsel's cloak, while Amadis disarmed, of which he had great need, and the Damsel retired farther among the trees to sleep. Then was his Lady in his power, nothing loth; and the fairest Damsel in the world became a Woman. Yet was their love encreased thereby, as pure and true love alway is.

When Galaor returned, the Damsel prepared the food; and, though they had neither many serving-men, nor vessels of gold and silver, yet was that a sweet meal upon the green grass in the forest.

CHAPTER 37.

Galaor rode on after the King so fast as his horse could carry him; still following the track of the horsemen. About vespers he met a Knight who cried out to him, whither so fast? stop and tell me! I have no time, quoth he.—By St. Mary, you pass not so! tell me, or fight me! But Galaor still rode on.—Certes, Knight, cried the stranger, you have committed some villainy that you fly so fast: defend yourself! Galaor turned as if to meet him in his career, but dexterously moved aside, so that the Knight's horse in his speed carried him a good way on. Ah, coward! cried the Knight, when at last he turned, thou shalt answer me or die! and he ran at him again full tilt. Again Galaor avoided the encounter, and rode on as fast as he could. When the Knight saw him far before, he said, as God shall help me, he shall not escape so! and knowing the country well, he

struck across by a nearer way, and took possession of a pass. Faint-hearted coward! quoth he, chuse now of three things: fight, or turn back, or answer me! I like neither, replied Galaor, and you are discourteous: if you want to know why I go so fast, follow me and see; I should lose time in telling you, and you would not believe me, it is for so great an evil. The Knight answered, In God's name then go on, and I will follow thee though for these three days.

In about half a league's time they saw one Knight running after his horse, and another gallopping away from him. He who was with Galaor knew him on foot, for he was his cousin, and he caught the horse for him, and asked him, how is this? He replied, I was riding along thinking upon you know what, when that Knight yonder gave me such a thrust on my shield that the horse fell upon his knees and threw me. I drew my sword, and called to him to do battle; but he only cried out, remember to answer another time when you are spoken to! and so he rode away. By my faith in God, let us follow him, and see you how I will avenge myself. I cannot, said his cousin, now, for I must keep this Knight company for three days; and then he related what had befallen him

with Galaor. Quoth the other, certes either he is the greatest coward in the world, or he goes upon some great adventure: I will forego my own vengeance to see the end of this. By this Galaor was far before them, for he did not tarry a whit, and they rode after him. It was now drawing towards night. Galaor entered a forest, and soon lost the track, for it was dark, so that he knew not which way to take. Then he began to pray to God to guide him that he might be the first to succour the King; and thinking that those horsemen might have led the King apart from the road to rest themselves, he went along the bottoms listening every where if he might hear them. The Knights thinking he had kept the road, rode straight forward about a league till they came through the forest, and not seeing him there they imagined he had hidden himself, and they turned aside to lodge in the house of a Dame hard by.

When Galaor had searched the forest throughout, and found nothing, he resolved to proceed, and ascend some eminence the next day to look about. So recovering the road, he went on till he came into the open country, and there he saw before him in a valley a little fire. Thither he went; it was some forgemen, and they seeing him come

among them in arms, took up lances and hatchets to defend themselves; but he bidding them not fear, besought them to give him some barley for his horse. The which they did, and he gave the beast his supper. They would have given him also to eat, but he would not; only he lay down to sleep, requesting them to wake him before day-break. The night was two parts gone, and Galaor lay down by the fire, completely armed. At dawn he rose, for he had not slept much for pure vexation, and, commending them to God, he took his leave. His Squire had not been able to keep pace with him, and thenceforth he vowed if God prospered him, to give his Squire the better horse. So he rode to a high hill, and from thence began to look all round him.

The two cousins had now left the Lady's house, and it being now day they saw Galaor on the eminence, and knowing him by his shield rode towards him. As they drew nigh they saw him descend the hill as fast as horse could carry him. Certes, quoth the one, he is flying and concealing himself for some mischief: if I come up with him, God never help me if I do not learn from him what he hath deserved. But Galaor, thinking nothing of them, had just seen ten Knights passing

a strait at the entrance of the forest, of whom five rode first and five behind, and some unarmed men went in the middle. These he thought to be the villains with the King, and went towards them like a man who has devoted his own life to save another. Coming near, he saw Lisuarte with the chain about his neck; and then, with grief and rage that defied danger, he ran at the first five, exclaiming, Ah, traitors! to your own misfortune have you laid hands upon the best man in the world! The five at once ran at him; he smote the first so sternly, that the wood of his lance appeared through his back, and he fell dead; the others smote him with such force that his horse fell upon his knees, and one of them drove his spear between Galaor's shield and breast-plate. Galaor forced it from him, and striking at another with it, nailed his leg to the horse, and left the broken lance in them; then putting hand to sword, the others all came at him, and he defended himself so bravely that every one wondered how he could bear up against such blows. But being in this great press of danger, it pleased God to succour him with the two cousins who were in his pursuit, who seeing his great chivalry, exclaimed, Of a truth we wrongly called him coward: let us go help the best Knight in the world! With that they ran

full tilt to his assistance, like men who knew their business, for they had each been Errant Knights for ten years, and the one was called Ladasin, the sword-player, and the other Don Guilan the pensive, the good Knight. At this time Galaor had great need of their aid, for his helmet was hacked and battered, his harness open in many places, and his horse tottering with loss of blood; yet he felt assured that, if his horse did not fail him, he should bring it to a good end. But when the two cousins came to his help, then he bestirred himself more hopefully, for he marvelled at their prowess. The load of blows was lightened, and he had room for action. When the Cousin of Arcalaus saw how things were going, for his Knights were falling on all sides, he ran to Lisuarte to slay him. Those who were with the King had fled, and he got from off the palfrey with the chain about his neck, and caught up a shield and sword from the ground, and received upon the shield the blow that was meant for his death. The sword passed a palm's length through the rim of the shield, and with its point reaching the head made a slant wound to the skull; but the King smote at his enemy's horse in the face, so that the traitor could not repeat the blow, and the horse reared and fell back upon the

rider. Galaor now on foot, for his horse could not move, ran to him to smite off his head; but the King called out not to slay him. By this the two cousins had made an end of their last enemy, and then turning round they knew the King, to their great wonder, for they knew nothing of what had happened; and they took off their helmets, and knelt before him. He raised them up, saying, By my God, friends, you have succoured me in time! great wrong, Don Guilan, hath your mistress done me in withdrawing you from my company, and for your sake I lose Ladasin also. Guilan was ashamed at these words, and his cheeks crimsoned, for he loved the Dutchess of Bristol and she loved him, and the Duke always suspected it was he who had entered his castle when Galaor was there.

Galaor had now taken the chain from Lisuarte, and fastened it round the cousin of Arcalaus; they took the horses of the dead, one for the King, and one for Galaor, and rode towards London. They halted at the dwelling of Ladasin, and there found Galaor's Squire and Ardian the Dwarf, who thought his master had taken that way. A Squire was sent forthwith to inform the Queen of Lisuarte's safety. They rested that night; and, as they set forth on

the morning, their prisoners confessed how all that had passed had been concerted with Barsinan, that he might make himself King of Great Britain; which, when Lisuarte heard, he spurred on in greater haste.

CHAPTER 38.

The woodmen had carried the news of Lisuarte's imprisonment to London; immediately there was a great stir in the city: the Knights all ran to horse, and gallopped to his rescue, so that the whole plain seemed full of them. King Arban of North Wales was talking with the Queen, when his Squires brought him horse and arms, and a Page said to him, arm yourself, Sir! what are you doing? there is not a Knight of all the King's company, except yourself, who is not gone full speed to the forest. And why? quoth Arban.—Because they say ten Knights are carrying away the King prisoner. Holy Mary! exclaimed the Queen; I always feared this! and she fell down in a swoon. Arban left her to the care of her Ladies, all making loud lamentation, and armed himself. As he was mounting, he heard a great cry that the Tower was taken. Holy Mary!

quoth he, we are all betrayed! and then he knew he must not leave the Queen. By this time there was such an uproar in the town, as if all the people of the world were there. Arban drew up his two hundred Knights before the Queen's palace, and sent two of them to discover the cause of the tumult. They went to the Tower, and saw that Barsinan had got possession of it, and was killing some and throwing others from the walls, for he had six hundred Knights with him, besides footmen, and the King's Knights suspecting nothing had all gone to their master's rescue. The townsmen hearing this, ran all armed as they could in haste to the Queen's palace, and there also Barsinan went that he might take her, and get possession of the crown and throne. When he arrived he found Arban ready for defence. Arban, quoth he, you have hitherto been the wisest Knight of a young man that has been known: see now that you lose not your wisdom. Why do you say this? cried Arban.—Because before five days end Lisuarte's head will be sent me, and there is no other in this land who can and ought to be King except myself, and King I will be! I give you the kingdom of North Wales which you now hold, because you are a good Knight and wise: so retire now, and let me take the crown and throne, for whosoever

opposes me shall lose his head. Villain and Traitor! quoth Arban; and then began a sharp conflict, wherein many were slain, which lasted till night, for the streets being narrow Barsinan could not avail himself of his numbers, and King Arban so behaved himself that he that day saved the Queen.

At night both parties retired: the Queen then sent for Arban; he went to her armed as he was, and wounded in many places, and, when he came before her, took off his battered helmet. There were five wounds in his face and neck, and his countenance was all bloody; but it seemed a beautiful face to those who, under God, thought him their protector. But the Queen seeing him, wept aloud with great pity: Ah, good nephew, God defend thee! what will become of the King? and what will become of us? Of him, quoth Arban, we shall have good news; for ourselves, fear nothing from these traitors: your vassals who are with me can defend themselves in their great loyalty.—But, Nephew, you are not in a state to bear arms, and what can the others do without you?—Fear not, Lady, so long as life is in me I shall not forsake my arms.

Barsinan, who found his people had need of rest, took twenty Knights with him in the morning, and went to a post which Arban's High Steward kept. They at the barrier took their arms to defend themselves, but Barsinan cried out that he came to speak with them, and make a truce till noon; to which Arban, being advised thereof, assented willingly, for the most part of his company had been so hardly handled that they could not bear arms. Barsinan then went to Arban, and said he would make a truce for five days. Agreed, said Arban, but provided that you shall not attempt to take any thing in the town; and that if the King comes, we immediately act as he may order us. I grant all this, said Barsinan, that there may be no more battling, for I value my own Knights, and I value you who will be mine sooner than you think. I will tell you how: the King is dead, and I have his daughter and will make her my wife. God forsake me then, quoth Arban, if ever thou shalt have truce with me, since thou art a partaker in the treason against my liege Lord! go and do thy worst! And before night Barsinan made three attacks upon him, and was repulsed.

CHAPTER 39.

Meantime Amadis asked Oriana what Arcalaus had said to her. He told me not to grieve, said she, for within fifteen days he would make me Queen of London, and give me Barsinan for my husband, to whom he was to give me and my father's head, and be made his High Steward in return. Holy Mary! quoth Amadis: Barsinan, who seemed such a friend! I fear lest he do injury to the Queen. Dear friend, cried Oriana, hasten on! I must to my sorrow, replied Amadis, for else I should have delighted to pass four days here in the forest with you, if it had pleased you. Oriana answered, God knows how willingly! but great evil might happen thereby to this land, which if God pleases will one day be yours and mine. As soon as it was morning Amadis armed himself, and leading his Lady's bridle, rode on as fast as they could towards London; and every where they met

the Knights, five by five, and ten by ten, as they were seeking the King; more than a thousand they met, and told them which way the King was gone, and how Galaor was in quest of him. When they came within five leagues of London they met Grumedan, the good old Knight who had fostered the Queen; twenty of his lineage were with him, and they had been all night long scouring the forest. He seeing Oriana went towards her weeping: Oh God, Lady, what a good day with your coming! but what tidings of the King? They told him what they knew, and Amadis said to him, Take you charge of Oriana, and bid all the Knights that you shall meet turn back, for if numbers can succour him, there are already more than enough gone: I must go with all speed to protect the Queen. With that he gallopped away: at the entrance of the city he found the Squire whom Lisuarte had sent with the news of his deliverance, and learnt also the state of the city. So entering as privately as he could he went to Arban, who embraced him right joyfully, and asked, what news? As good as heart could wish! quoth Amadis: let us go to the Queen. He took with him Ladasin's messenger, and kneeling before Brisena, said, Lady, this Squire has left Lisuarte safe and well, and I have left Oriana with your fosterer

Grumedan; they will soon be here, but I must go look after Barsinan. He then changed his shield and helmet that he might not be known, and bade Arban throw down the barriers, that the traitors might come freely on, for by God's help they shall pay dearly for their treason! The barriers were thrown down, and Barsinan prest on at the head of his people, thinking that all would now be his, for his own men were many and his enemies few, and he was eager to seize the Queen. The King's party gave back being overpowered, then Amadis went forth; he had on a rusty helmet, and a plain shield hanging from his neck; but he was soon judged to be a good one, and he went on making his way through the press; and having the good sword of Lisuarte by his side. He forced his way to Barsinan and encountered him; drove his lance through shield and corselet, and left the broken spear in him half way of its iron; then drew he his sword, and smote off the crest and top of his helmet, and the scalp of his head, for the sword cut so finely that Amadis could scarce feel the blow he gave; with another stroke he sheared thro' gauntlet and hand, and the sword passing through the bone of the wrist, fell on the leg and entered in half through. Then Barsinan fell, and Amadis turned upon the throng, and King Arban so prest

them that they who could escape slaughter ran to the Tower, and made fast the gates. Amadis finding he could not force entrance readily, went back to Barsinan, and finding him still alive, ordered that he should be carried to the palace and kept till the King's return. Then the strife being over, he looked at the bloody sword which he held in his hand. Sword! quoth he, in a happy day was the Knight born who shall wield you! and certes you are well employed, for being the best in the world, you belong to the noblest King! He then disarmed himself, and went to the Queen; and Arban was laid in his bed, as there was great need, for he was sorely wounded.

At this time King Lisuarte was hastening to London. Of the Knights whom he met, some he made turn back, others he sent through the vallies and by all roads to recal their comrades from their search. The first whom he met were Agrayes and Galvanes, and Solinan and Galdan, and Dinadaus and Bervas, all six together making great moan; who when they saw him would have kissed his hand, but he joyfully embraced them. Sir, said Dinadaus, the whole city are in quest of you like mad men. Nephew, replied the King, take some of these Knights with you, and carry my shield

that you may be the sooner obeyed, and turn back all whom you meet. This Dinadaus was one of the best Knights of the King's lineage, and well esteemed among all good Knights, as well for courteous bearing as for his good chivalry and prowess. When they came into the high road to London they fell in with Grumedan, the King's so dear friend, who was conducting Oriana home; and I tell you their pleasure was exceeding great, and the old man told him how Amadis was gone to the Queen's succour. Presently they heard news what Barsinan had done, and how King Arban had defended the city, and how by the coming of Amadis all had been ended and the traitor taken. By the time the King reached London, there were in his company more than two thousand Knights. When he came to the palace, who can tell the joy that was made? Immediately he had the Tower surrounded, and having made Barsinan and the Cousin of Arcalaus confess the whole manner of their treason, they were both burnt in sight of their own people, who having no provisions, neither any remedy, in five days came to the King's mercy, and he executed justice upon some and pardoned others. Thus ended this treason, but it was the cause of much enmity between the countries of Great Britain and Sansuena, for a son of

Barsinan, who was a good Knight, came afterwards against Lisuarte with a great power.

These dangers over the court proceeded as before, making great pastimes and festivals as well by night in the town, as by day in the fields. On one of those days the Lady and her sons arrived, before whom Amadis and Galaor had made their covenant with Madasima. They seeing her went honourably to bid her welcome. Friends, said she, you know wherefore I am come: what will you do in this case? will you not keep your promise, for to-day is the time? In God's name, replied Galaor, let us go before the King. Let us go, quoth she. Then coming into the presence, the Lady made her obeisance and said, Sir, I come here to see these Knights perform a covenant which they have made; and then she repeated what they had promised to Madasima, the Lady of Gantasi. Ah Galaor, cried the King, you have undone me! Galaor answered, better this than to die: if we had been known, all the world could not have saved our lives; and now the remedy is easier than you imagine. Brother, remember you have promised to follow my example! Then Galaor related before the King, and all the Knights present, by what treachery they had been taken. Sir King, said he, I now forsake you

and your company for the sake of Madasima, the Lady of Castle Gantasi; for it is her will to do you this displeasure, and whatever others she can, for the hatred she bears you. Amadis affirmed what his brother had said. Have we performed our covenant? then said Galaor to the three witnesses; they answered, yes, truly, you have acquitted your promise. In God's name! quoth Galaor, and now you may return when you please, and tell Madasima that she hath not made her terms so cunningly as she thought, as you may see. Sir, we have kept our covenant with Madasima, and forsaken your service; but it was not stipulated how long we were to be out of your service, therefore we are free to use our own will, and freely again enter your service as before. At this Lisuarte was greatly pleased, and said to the Lady, Certes these Knights have fairly acquitted themselves of a promise so treacherously obtained, and just it is that they who deceive should be themselves deceived. Tell Madasima, that, if she hates me, she had it in her power to do me the greatest ill that could happen; but God, who has preserved them from other perils, would not suffer them to perish by such hands. If it please you, Sir, said the Lady, tell me who these Knights are?—Amadis and Don Galaor his brother. What! was

Amadis in her power? cried she: now God be praised that they are safe, for certes it had been great misadventure if two such good men had so perished? She will be ready for pure vexation to inflict the death upon herself which she designed for them. Truly, quoth the King, that would be more justly done. So the Lady went her way.

CHAPTER 40.

Twelve days together did King Lisuarte continue his court, and, when it broke up, though many Knights departed to their own lands, it was a wonder how many remained, and in like manner many Dames and Damsels continued to abide with the Queen. Among those whom the King received into his company were the cousins Ladasin and Guilan the pensive, both good Knights, but Guilan was the better of the twain, for in the whole kingdom of London there was none who surpassed him in worth; but so absent was he, that none could enjoy his conversation or company, and of this love was the cause, and that to a Lady who neither loved him nor any thing else to such an excess: her name was Brandalisa, sister to the Queen of Sobradisa, and married to the Duke of Bristol.

The day came whereon that Duke was summoned to appear and answer the appeal of Olivas. The

Duke arrived, and was courteously by the King received. Sir, quoth he, you have summoned me to answer an accusation: he who made it lies, and I am ready to acquit myself as you shall judge right. Then uprose Olivas, and with him all the Errant Knights present. Lisuarte asked why they all arose. Grumedan answered, because the Duke threatens all Knights Errant, and therefore we are all concerned. Certes, quoth the King, a mad war hath he undertaken! there is not in the world a King so mighty, or so wise, that he could bring a war like that to good issue! but retire you at present, and seek not now to avenge yourselves: he shall have full justice. All then withdrew, but Olivas, who said, the Duke who standeth before you, Sir, hath slain my Cousin-german, who never by word or deed gave him occasion of offence: I therefore accuse him as a traitor for this, and will either make him confess it, or kill him, or force him out of the lists. The Duke told him he lied, and that he was ready to acquit himself. The combat was fixed for the next day, for the Duke's two nephews who were to fight on his side were not yet arrived.

They came that evening; the Duke made such account of them that he thought Olivas could not

produce their peers. They went before the King. Olivas defied the Duke, who demanded battle, three to three. Then Don Galvanes, who was at the feet of the King, rose, and called his nephew Agrayes, and said to Olivas, Friend, we promised to be on your side if need was: now then let the battle be. When the Duke saw them, he remembered how they had rescued the Damsel whom he would have burnt, and he was somewhat abashed. They armed themselves, and entered the place appointed for such trials; one party through the one gate, the other on the opposite side. From the Queen's window Olinda overlooked the lists, and seeing Agrayes about to fight her heart failed her; and Mabilia and Oriana were greatly grieved for the love they bore to him and Galvanes. The lists were cleared: the King withdrew from them, and the champions ran their encounter. Agrayes and his Uncle dismounted their enemies, and broke both their lances. Olivas made the Duke fall on his horse's neck, but received a deep wound himself, and the Duke recovered his seat. Agrayes rode at him, and laid on him a heavy load of blows, heartily hating him for his great discourtesy and falsehood; but one of the dismounted Knights struck at the Prince's horse, and buried the sword in his flank: the horse fell, and the Duke and his

Nephew both assailed Agrayes as he lay upon the ground. Don Galvanes, closely busied with his antagonist, saw nothing of this. At that hour all who loved Agrayes were in great consternation; Amadis yearned to be among them, for he greatly feared his cousin's death; the three Damsels above were well nigh desperate, and it was pitiful to behold Olinda, what she suffered. Howbeit, Agrayes got on his feet, and with the good sword of Amadis, which he wielded, laid lustily about him. Ah, God, cried Galaor aloud, what is Olivas about this while! better that he had never borne arms, if he fails at a time like this! But Galaor knew not what sore agony Olivas suffered; for he had such a wound, and bled so fast, that it was a wonder how he kept his seat. He saw the peril of Agrayes, and heaving a deep sigh, as one whose heart did not fail him though his strength was failing, he cried, Oh God, let me help my good friend before my soul depart! and then, feebly as he could, he laid hand to sword and turned upon the Duke, and his spirit kept him up. Agrayes was now left man to man, and he remembered that his Lady saw him, and he laid on so furiously that his friends trembled lest his strength and breath should fail him; but this was his custom, and if his strength had been equal to his great

courage, he would have been one of the best Knights in the world; but even as it was he was right good, and of great prowess. Anon he had cut through armour and flesh in sundry places, and left his foe quivering with death, at the same moment when Olivas, fainting for loss of blood, fell from his horse. The Duke not seeing how Agrayes had fared, turned upon Galvanes; Agrayes leaped upon Olivas's horse, and rode to his Uncle's assistance: he smote the Duke's Nephew upon the helmet, so that the sword stuck there; and plucking it away, he burst the lacings, and left him bareheaded to the wrath of Galvanes, while he turned upon the Duke. Presently Galvanes having finished his enemy, attacked the Duke on the other side, but his horse being wounded fell and bruised him, so that man to man were left. Still were all the beholders right glad; but above all Don Guilan, who hoped to see the Duke slain, for the love he bore to his wife. The Duke was flying, Agrayes reached the rim of his shield, the sword went in, the Duke threw off the shield from his neck, and still fled; then turned, while Agrayes was recovering his sword, and struck twice at him. The Prince, as soon as his weapon was free, requited him with a blow on the left shoulder that went through harness and flesh and bone, down to the

ribs. The Duke fell, but hung in the stirrup, and the horse dragged him out of the lists, and when he was picked up his head was found dashed to pieces by the horse's heels. Agrayes forthwith alighted, and ran to his uncle, and asked how he fared. Bravely, quoth Galvanes, God be thanked! but I am right sorry for Olivas, for methinks he is dead. They then cast the two nephews out of the lists; then went to Olivas, and found that he had just opened his eyes, and was asking to be confessed. Galvanes looked at his wound: take heart, cried he, it is not in a dangerous place! Sir, replied Olivas, my heart and all my limbs are dying away; I have been sore wounded ere now, but never was in such weakness. They disarmed him, and the fresh air was of service, and the blood somewhat ceased. The King sent a bed whereon to remove him, and skilful surgeons dressed his wound, and said that though it was very deep, by God's help they could heal it.

The Queen then sent Grumedan to bring Brandalisa to court, and, with her, her niece Aldeva: Thereat was Don Guilan well pleased, and in a month they arrived, and were honourably welcomed. So the fame of King Lisuarte went abroad, and in half a year it was a marvel how

many Knights came from foreign parts to serve him, whom he rewarded bountifully, hoping by their aid not only to preserve his own kingdom, but to conquer others, that in old times had been subject and tributary to Great Britain.

CHAPTER 41.

This history has related to you how Amadis promised Briolania to revenge her father's death, and how she gave him a sword, and that when in his combat with Gasinan he broke the sword, he gave the pieces to Gandalin's care: You shall now hear how the battle was performed, and what great danger he underwent because of that broken sword, not from any fault of his own, but for the ignorance of his dwarf Ardian.

Amadis, now recollecting that the time was come to perform his promise, acquainted Oriana, and requested her leave, though to him it was like dividing his heart from his bosom to leave her; and she granted it, albeit with many tears, and a sorrow that seemed to presage what evil was about to happen. Amadis took the Queen's leave for form's sake, and departed with Galaor and Agrayes. They

had gone about half a league, when he asked Gandalin if he had brought the three pieces of the sword which Briolania had given him, and finding he had not, bade him return and fetch them. The Dwarf said he would go, for he had nothing to delay him; and this was the means whereby Amadis and Oriana were both brought into extreme misery, neither they nor the Dwarf himself being culpable.

The Dwarf rode back to his master's lodging, found the pieces of the sword, put them in his skirt, and was retiring, when, as he passed the palace, he heard himself called. Looking up, he saw Oriana and Mabilia, who asked him why he had not gone with his master. I set out with him, said he, but returned for this; and he showed her the broken sword. What can your master want a broken sword for? quoth Oriana. Because, said the Dwarf, he values it more than the two best whole ones, for her sake who gave it him.—And who is she—The Lady for whom he undertakes this combat, and though you are daughter to the best King in the world, yet, fair as you are, you would rather win what she has won, than possess all your father's lands.—What gain so precious hath she made? perchance she hath gained your

master?—Yes, she has, his whole heart! and he remains her Knight to serve her! Then, giving his horse the lash, he gallopped away, little thinking the wrong he had done. Oriana remained pale as death; she burst into bitter reproaches against the falsehood of Amadis, and wrung her hands, and her heart was so agitated that not a tear did she shed. It was in vain that Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark strove to allay her rage with reasonable words: as passionate women will do, she followed her own will, which led her to commit so great an error, that God's mercy was necessary to repair it.

The Dwarf rejoined his master, and showed him the pieces of his sword, but Amadis asked him no questions, and he said nothing of what had passed. Presently they met a Damsel, who asked whither they were going.—Along this road.—I advise you to leave it.—Why?—Because no Knight hath taken it for fifteen days but he hath been either slain or wounded. And who hath done all this mischief? quoth Amadis.—The best Knight in arms that I have ever seen. Damsel, said Agrayes, you must shew us this Knight.—He will shew himself so soon as you enter the forest. The Damsel then followed them; they looked all round the

forest in vain, till, as they were at the other side thereof, they saw a Knight of good stature completely armed, on a roan horse, holding a lance, and a Squire by him with four other lances. He speaking to his Squire, the man laid the lances against a tree, and came up to the Knights.—Sirs, yonder Knight sends to inform ye that he hath kept this forest for fifteen days against all Knights Errant with fair fortune, and for the pleasure of the joust hath yet stayed a day and a half longer than his time appointed; he says, that if it please you to joust with him he is ready, but there shall be no sword combat, for in that he hath done much evil against his own will, and will avoid it henceforth if he can. Agrayes had taken his helm and thrown the shield round his neck, while the Squire was speaking: tell him to defend himself! quoth he. They ran their race; their spears brake, and Agrayes was dismounted, and his horse ran loose, whereat he was greatly ashamed. Galaor took his arms to avenge him; the lances were broken: their bodies met with such force, that Galaor's horse, being the weaker and more weary, fell and threw him, and then ran away. Amadis seeing this, blessed himself: in truth, said he, the Knight may well be praised, for he hath proved himself against two of the best in the world; but as he

went on to take his turn he found Galaor on foot, with his sword in hand defying the Knight to battle, but the Knight laughed at him; and Amadis said, brother, do not chafe yourself; it was the covenant that there should be no sword-battle. Then he bade the stranger defend himself, and they ran at each other: their spears flew up in splinters; they came against each other, shield and helmet; the horse fell with Amadis, and the horse broke his shoulder; the Knight of the forest was dismounted, but he held the reins, and lightly took the saddle again. Quoth Amadis, you must joust again, for this encounter was equal, we both fell. I do not chuse to joust again, said he. Amadis replied, Knight, you do me wrong. Right yourself when you can! said the other: I am bound no farther, as I sent to tell you! and then he gallopped away through the forest.

Amadis leapt upon Gandalin's horse, and told his companions to follow him as fast as they could to find that Knight, for they were all greatly abashed. Quoth the Damsel, it will be a foolish quest: all the Knights of King Lisuarte's household would fail to find him without a guide. My friend, said Galaor, belike you know who he is, and where to be found? If I do, quoth she, I mean not to tell

you, for I would bring no harm to so good a man. Ah, Damsel, said Galaor, by the faith you owe to God, and by the thing in the world which you love best, tell me what you know of him. She answered, I care not for these conjurings, and will not discover him for nothing. Ask what you will, quoth Amadis.—Tell me your name, and promise me each a boon hereafter, when I shall demand it. They in their earnestness promised. When she heard the name of Amadis, she exclaimed, God be praised, for I was seeking you!—And wherefore?—You shall know when it is time; but tell me, have you forgot your promise to the daughter of the King of Sobradisa, who let loose the lions to save you? I am now going, replied Amadis, to perform the battle. Why then, quoth she, would you turn astray to follow this Knight, who is not so easy to find as you imagine, when your day is appointed for the combat? She says true, Sir brother, said Galaor: go you with Agrayes upon this business; I will follow the Knight with this Damsel, for I shall never have joy till I find him, and I will join you in time for the battle if it be possible. In God's name! cried Amadis, but tell us, Damsel, the name of the Knight.—I know it not, yet once I was a month with him and saw never else such deeds of arms; but I can

show where he is to be found. Then Galaor departed with her.

Amadis and Agrayes proceeded till they came to the castle of Torin, the dwelling of that fair young Damsel, who was now grown so beautiful that she appeared like a bright star. What think you of her? said Amadis. Agrayes answered, if her Maker designed to make her beautiful, he has most perfectly accomplished his will. They were disarmed, and mantles given them, and they were conducted into the hall. But when Briolania saw Amadis how young he was, for he was not twenty, and how beautiful, for even the scars in his face became him, and of what fair renown he was, she thought him the best Knight in the world, and greatly affected him; so that when by his help she had recovered her kingdom, she would have given him herself and that, but Amadis told her right loyally how he was another's.

CHAPTER 42.

Four days Galaor rode with the Damsel, and so wrathful was he for this fall that whatever Knight encountered him in that time felt the effects, and many were slain for the act of another. At length they saw a fair fortress, built above a vale; the Damsel told him there was no other place near where he could lodge that night, and they made up to it. At the gate they found many men and Dames and Damsels, so that it seemed to be the house of a good man, and among them was a Knight of seventy years, with a cloak of scarlet skin, who courteously bade him welcome. Sir, quoth Galaor, you welcome us so well, that, tho' we found another host, we would not leave your hospitality. Then were they led into a hall, and supper was given them right honourably; and, when the cloths were removed, the old Knight went to Galaor and asked him if the Damsel was

to be his bedfellow. He replied, no; and two Damsels then conducted her to her chamber, while he was shewn a rich bed for himself. Here rest yourself, said his host: God knows the pleasure I have in entertaining you, and all Errant Knights, for I myself have been one, and have two sons who are the like, but both now are badly wounded, for there came by a Knight who dismounted them both, and they greatly ashamed of their foil rode after him, and came up to him by a river as he was about to cross it in a boat; and they would have made him do battle with the sword, since they knew how he could joust. The Knight, who was in haste, would have declined the battle, but my sons prevented him from entering the boat. A Lady who was in the boat then said to them, that they were discourteous in detaining her Knight against her will; but they said, he must needs do battle. Let it be, then, said the Lady, that he shall fight with the better of you twain, and if he conquer him that shall suffice. Not so, they answered; if one failed, the other would prove his fortune. The Knight then grew angry, and cried, come both, since you will not let me proceed! and one after the other he sent them from their horses, utterly confounded; then crossed the river and went his way. I went afterwards to bring home

my sons, for they were sorely wounded: you shall see with what wounds, such as never before were given by any Knight. He then sent for the armour which they had worn, and it was so cut through with the sword that Galaor greatly marvelled, and asked what arms the Knight bore.—A vermilion shield with two grey lions, and another on his helmet, and he rides a roan horse. Know you who he is? cried Galaor. No, said the old Knight. It is the same Knight whom I am seeking, quoth Galaor, and, if I find him, I will revenge your two sons and myself, or die. Sir friend, quoth his host, I would counsel you to forbear the attempt, for as for what my sons have suffered they brought it on themselves; and then he bade him good night.

The next morning Galaor and his guide departed; they crossed the river in the boat, and proceeding about five leagues came to a fortress. Wait for me a little, said the Damsel; I will be here presently: and she entered the castle. Presently she returned, bringing with her another Damsel and ten Knights on horseback; and that other Damsel, who was passing fair, said to Galaor, Sir, my Cousin tells me you are in quest of the Knight who bears two grey lions in a vermilion shield, that you may

know who he is; but I tell you that you cannot learn by force, for there is no Knight like him in all the islands, and he will neither tell you nor any other for three years, unless it be forced from him. Damsel, said Galaor, I shall not cease my enquiry, and would rather learn his name by force than by other means. Since that be so, said she, within three days I will bring you to him, at my Cousin's request. They set forth, and by vespers time came to an arm of the sea that clipped round an island, so that there was full three leagues of water to cross; a bark was ready at the harbour, but before they entered it an oath was demanded, that there was only one Knight in company. Why is this oath required? said Galaor. The Damsel replied, the Lady of the island will have it so; when one Knight has crost over, no other is suffered to come till the first return, or is slain.—Who is it that kills or conquers them?—The Knight whom you are seeking; he has been here half a year, and by this occasion: a turney was held here by the Lady of the island, and another Dame of great beauty; this Knight came hither from a foreign land, and being on her side won the victory. Whereat she was so pleased, that she never rested till she had won him for her paramour; but because he is desirous of seeking adventures, the

Lady, to detain him with her, invites Knights to joust against him. If by chance they are slain, they are there interred; otherwise, they are sent back, and he gives their arms and horses to his mistress. She is a full fair Lady, and her name Corisanda; the island is called Gravisanda. How came he, said Galaor, to keep the forest? It was a boon asked of him by a Damsel, said she, tho' his mistress hardly permitted him to perform it.

By this they had reached the island; the night was some way advanced, but it was clear moonlight, the Damsel had two tents pitched beside a little brook, and there they supped, and rested till the morning. Galaor would fain have shared the Damsel's tent, but to that, albeit, she thought him the fairest of all Knights and much delighted in his conversation, she would not consent. In the morning they set forward, and he asked his guide if she knew the Knight's name?—Neither man nor woman in all this land know it, except his mistress. Then was Galaor the more curious that one of such worth in arms should so conceal himself. Presently they saw a castle on a height, surrounded for a league on all sides by a rich plain. In that castle, quoth the Damsel, is he whom you seek. Having advanced farther, they found a stone

pillar curiously wrought, and a horn upon it. Sound that horn, said she, and you shall presently see the Knight. Galaor blew the horn, and forthwith there came certain men from the castle, and pitched a tent in the meadow before the gate, and then there issued out ten Dames and Damsels, and in the midst of them one richly clad, who was the Lady of the rest. Why does the Knight tarry? quoth Galaor, who saw all this. The Damsel answered, he will not come till the Lady send for him. I beseech you then, said he, go to her and request her to summon him, for I have much to do elsewhere and cannot tarry. When the Lady heard this errand, what! cried she, holds he our Knight so cheap that he already thinks of doing ought elsewhere? he will depart sooner than he thinks, and more to his cost. Then she turned to her man: go, call the strange Knight. Anon he came from the castle, armed and afoot; his men led his horse, and carried his shield and lance and helmet, and he went straight to his mistress. You see a foolish Knight yonder, said she, who thinks lightly to take his leave of you: I desire you would make him know his foolishness! and then she embraced, and kissed him. All this made Galaor the more angry.

The Knight mounted, and slowly rode down the height. Galaor was ready as soon as he saw him in the level, and bade him defend himself: they ran at each other; both lances were broken, both shields pierced, both Knights deeply wounded. Don Galaor drew his sword: the stranger said to him, Knight, by the faith you owe to God, and to the thing you love best, let us joust once more! You conjure me so, said Galaor, that I will do it, but I am sorry my horse is not so good as yours, else we would joust till one of us fell, or till all your lances were broken! The Knight made no answer, but called to his Squire for two lances, and sent the one to Galaor. Again they encountered: Galaor's horse came on his knees and tottered, and was almost down; the stranger lost both his stirrups, and was fain to hold round the neck of his horse. Galaor spurred up his and had now sword in hand; thereat the stranger, somewhat abashed, exclaimed, you are desirous to do combat with the sword; certes, I fear it rather for you than for myself: if you do not believe me, you shall see. Do your worst! quoth Galaor: I will either die, or revenge those whom you left in the forest. Then the stranger recollected that it was he who had defied him on foot, and he answered him angrily, revenge yourself if you can,

but I rather think you will carry back one shame upon another.

The Ladies, seeing how gallantly they had jousted, thought they would then have accorded, but when they saw the sword-battle, they were greatly amazed at the fury with which it was begun. Such mortal blows they gave each other, that the head was often made to bow upon the breast, and the steel [50:A]arches of the helmets were cut through, and their trappings, and the sword went through the linings and was felt upon the head; and the field was strewn with the fragments of their shields and their broken mail. This continued long, till each wondered that his antagonist could hold out. Galaor's horse at last began to fail him, and could scarcely move, whereat he waxed exceeding wroth, thinking that only this delayed his victory, for the stranger could lightly come on, and withdraw again from his blows. Galaor, when indeed he did reach him, made him feel the sword, but his

horse tottered as if he had been blind, and he began to fear his own death more than he had ever done before in any battle, save in that with his brother Amadis, for from that he never expected to leave off alive. Next to Amadis, he thought this the best Knight he had ever encountered, albeit he doubted not of conquering him, were it not for the fault of his horse. Being in this strait, he called out. Knight! either finish the battle on foot, or give me another horse, or else I will slay yours, and that villainy will be your fault. Do your worst! replied the stranger: the battle shall not be delayed; it is a great shame that it hath lasted so long. Look to your horse then! quoth Galaor. The Knight rode close to him, fearing for his horse; so close, that Galaor caught him with both arms, and at the same instant spurred his own horse violently, and they both fell upon the ground, each holding his sword, and there they struggled for some time before they released each other. But, when they rose, they attacked again so furiously as if the battle were but then beginning; there was not a moment's respite, now that they could freely close or strike. As the fight continued Galaor perceived he was gaining the better, for his enemy's strength evidently

weakened: Good Knight! quoth he, hold a while! whereat the other paused, being indeed in need of rest. You see, quoth Galaor, that I have the better of the battle; tell me your name, and why you so carefully conceal yourself, and I will acquit you from the combat and shall receive great pleasure; but unless you do this I will not leave you. Certes, quoth the Knight, I shall not leave off with these conditions: I never found myself so hardy in any battle as in this, and God forbid that any single Knight should ever know me, except to my great honour. Be not rash, cried Galaor; by my faith I swear never to let you go till I know who you are, and why you conceal yourself. God never help me, quoth the stranger, if ever you learn it from me: I will rather perish in battle than tell it, except to two Knights, to whom, tho' I know them not, I neither could nor ought to deny any thing. Who are they whom you value so much? quoth Galaor. Neither shall you know that, replied the stranger, because it seems that it would please you. Certes, rejoined Galaor; I will know what I ask, or one of us, or both, shall die. I am not averse to that, quoth his enemy. Then they renewed the combat with full fury; but the stranger waxed weaker, his armour was

every where laid open and streaming with blood, till at last the Lady of the Island ran like one frantic to Galaor, and cried, hold, Knight! would the bark had been sunk that brought thee hither! Lady, said he, if it offends you that I am avenging myself, and one who is better than myself, the fault is not mine. Offer him no more harm, quoth she, or you shall die by the hands of one who will have no mercy. He answered, I know not how that may turn out, but I will not leave him till I know what I have asked.—And what is that?—His name, and why he conceals it? and who the two Knights are whom he esteems above the rest of the world. She answered, A curse upon him who taught you to strike, and upon you who have learnt so well! I will tell you: his name is Don Florestan; he conceals himself because he hath two brothers in this land of such passing worth in arms, that, albeit you have proved his prowess, he dares not make himself known to them, till, by his fame, he is worthy to join them; and these two Knights are in the household of King Lisuarte, the one is called Amadis, the other Don Galaor, and they are all three sons of King Perion. Holy Mary! cried Galaor, what have I done? and then he presented his sword to Florestan: good brother, take my

sword, and the honour of the battle!—Are you my brother?—I am your brother Don Galaor. Then Florestan fell on his knees before him, saying, Sir, pardon me! for this offence that I have committed in combatting against you, was caused by no other reason than that I durst not name myself your brother, as I am, till I had somewhat resembled you in prowess. Galaor raised him up, and took him in his arms, and wept over him for joy, and for sorrow to see him so sorely wounded.

But the Lady beholding all this was greatly rejoiced. Sir, quoth she, if you gave me great anguish you have repaid it with double pleasure. They were then both carried into the castle and laid in bed, both in one apartment, and Corisanda, being skilful in chirurgery, looked to their wounds herself with great care; for she knew that if the one died, the other would die also for pure sorrow, and her own life would be doubtful if Florestan were in great danger.

FOOTNOTES:

[50:A] Cortando de los yelmos los arcos de azero con parte de las faldas dellos, assi qui las espadas descendian a los almofares, y las sentian en las cabeças.

CHAPTER 43.

This valiant and hardy Knight, Don Florestan, you should know how and in what land he was begotten, and by whom. Know then that when King Perion, being a young man and of good heart, sought adventures, he passed two years in Germany, doing great deeds in arms, and as he was returning with great glory to his own land, he lodged one day with the Count of Selandia, where he was right worshipfully entertained, and at night he was shewn to a rich bed, and there being weary with his journey fell asleep. Ere long he felt a Damsel embracing him, and her mouth joined to his; and, waking thereat, was drawing back, but she cried out, how is this, Sir? would you rather be alone in the bed? The King then looked at her by his chamber-light, and saw the fairest woman that ever he saw: tell me, quoth he, who you are? She answered, one that loves

you, and gives you her love.—First tell me your name?—Why do you distress me with the question?—I must know.—I am the Count's daughter. Then the King said, it becomes not a woman of your rank to commit this folly: I tell you I will not do this wrong to your father. Ah, quoth she, ill betide those who praise your goodness! you are the worst man in the world, and the most discourteous! what goodness can there be in you when you thrust away a fair Lady of such lineage? King Perion answered, I shall do that which is to your honour and my own, not what would injure both. Then, quoth she, I will do that which shall grieve my father more, than if you consent to my will! and she leapt up and took King Perion's sword, that same sword which was laid in the ark with Amadis, and unsheathed it, and placed the point against her heart:—Will not my father grieve more for my death? When the King saw that, he was greatly astonished, and he sprung from the bed, crying, hold! I will perform your will! and he snatched the sword from her, and that night she became pregnant. On the morrow Perion departed, and never saw her more.

She, so long as she could, concealed her situation, and when the time drew nigh contrived to go visit

her Aunt, with one Damsel; but as she was passing through a forest her pains came on her, and she alighted from her palfrey, and there brought forth a son. The Damsel seeing her in this plight, put the baby to her breast. Now, Lady, said she, the same courage that you showed in sinning, show now in supporting yourself till I return; and then she mounted her palfrey, and rode on as fast as she could to the Aunt's castle, and told her all that had happened. The Dame was greatly troubled, yet delayed not for that to succour her, but went forthwith with a litter, wherein she used to visit her brother to shade her from the sun; and when she saw her niece she alighted, and wept with her, and had her placed with the infant in the litter, and taken by night into the castle, and enjoined secrecy to all who were with her. So the mother returned after her recovery to the Count's castle, and nothing was known of what had passed, and the boy was educated till he was of eighteen years, a braver youth, and better limbed than any other in the district; and the Dame his Aunt seeing this gave him horse and arms, and took him to the Count to knight him, who knew not that he whom he was knighting was his own grandson.

As they were returning, the Dame told him the

secret of his birth, and said that he ought to go seek his father and make himself known to him. Certes, Lady, quoth he, I have often heard of King Perion, but never thought he was my father; but by the faith I owe to God, and to you who have brought me up, neither he nor any one else shall know who I am, till they can say that I am worthy to be the son of so good a man. Then taking his leave, he went with two Squires to Constantinople, where he heard there was a cruel war; there he remained four years, and did such deeds in arms as never Knight had wrought before in those parts, so that at the end of that time he determined to go and discover himself to his father. But as he drew nearer France, he heard the fame of Amadis and Galaor, who were now beginning to work wonders, so that he changed his first intention, and resolved to gain more honour in Great Britain, where there were more good Knights than in any part of the world, and that he would not make himself known till his prowess had given him sufficient renown: in which mind he continued till his combat with Galaor, as you have heard.

Amadis and Agrayes remained five days at the castle of Torin; then all things being prepared,

they set forward with Briolania and her aunt, who took with them two damsels and five serving-men, on horseback, and three palfreys laden with apparel, for Briolania went in black, and would wear nothing else till her father's death was avenged. As they began their journey Briolania requested a boon of Amadis, and her Aunt another of Agrayes; the which they granted, without knowing what it might be: they then demanded, that, let what would happen, the Knights should not leave the road, that so their present quest might not be interrupted. Much did they repent their promise, and great shame did they endure thereby, for in many places was their succour needed, and rightly might they have bestirred themselves if they had been at liberty. Thus they travelled twelve days before they entered the kingdom of Sobradisa; it was night when they reached it: they left the high road, and struck by a by-way for three leagues; and then, great part of the night being past, they came to a little castle, where a Lady dwelt named Galumba, who had served in the court of the King Briolania's father. She right joyfully admitted them, and set supper before them, and provided their night's entertainment; and the next morning asked the Aunt whither they were going. A joyful woman was she, hearing

that those Knights were going to revenge her Master's death; but I fear, said she, lest that traitor should destroy them by some deceit: for that reason, said the old Lady, am I come to consult with you. Leave it to me, quoth Galumba. Then she took ink and parchment, and wrote a letter, and sealed it with Briolania's seal, and gave it to a Damsel, and directed her what she should do. The Damsel mounted her palfrey, and rode on till she came to the great city of Sobradisa, from whence the whole kingdom took its name. She went directly to the palace of Abiseos, and rode through the gate, being richly apparelled. The Knights came around to assist her to dismount; but she said, no, she would not alight till the King saw her, and commanded her so to do. They then took her bridle, and led her into a hall where the King was, with his sons and many other Knights, and he bade her alight if she had any thing to say. She answered, I will, Sir, on condition that you protect me, and that I shall suffer no injury for any thing that I may say against you, or against any other here. The King assured her that she should be under his protection and royal faith, and bade her deliver what she was come to say. Upon that she alighted, and said, Sir, I bring a message which must be delivered in the

presence of all the chiefs of your realm: summon them, and it shall be made known. Quoth Abiseos, it is as you would wish: they are already in my court, and have been assembled on business these six days. Call them together, said she. Forthwith they were summoned, and being all met, the Damsel then said, King, Briolania, she whom you disherited, sends you this letter, to be read before this assembly. When Abiseos heard the name of his niece he was touched with shame, remembering the wrong he had wrought her; yet, the letter was openly read, which was to give credit to the Damsel's words. To this he only replied, that they were not to believe what the Damsel might say on Briolania's behalf: but the people of the realm who were there present were moved with great compassion at the name of their lawful Lady, who was so unjustly dispossessed, and they besought God secretly that he would no longer suffer so great a treason to remain unpunished. Give your errand, quoth the King. Sir King, said the Damsel, it is true that you killed the father of Briolania, and have disherited her of her kingdom; and you have often declared, that you and your sons would justify what you have done by force of arms. Briolania now sends to say, that if you hold your word she will bring here two Knights

who will undertake the battle in her cause, and make you know your treason and great tyranny. When Darasion, the eldest of the sons heard this, he arose in great anger, being of a hot nature, and without his father's permission replied, Damsel, if Briolania has these Knights, I promise the combat for myself, and for my father and brother; and, if I do not perform this, I promise before all these Knights to give my head to her, that she may take it in requital of her father's. Certes Darasion, answered the Damsel, you answer like a Knight of great courage, yet may I doubt your words to proceed from choler, for I see you are enraged; but if you will obtain from the King an assurance of your words, I shall think they proceed from that great worth and hardihood which are in you. What would you have? quoth he. Cause the King, she replied, to give our Knights assurance that, for any mishap which you may receive in the battle, they shall sustain no injury from any in this land, nor be meddled withal but by you three: give them this safe conduct, and they will be here within three days. Darasion knelt down before his father;—you see, Sir, what the Damsel requests, and what I have promised; and, because my honour is yours, let it be granted, else they will without danger have put us to shame, for we

have always avowed that if any one attainted your deeds we would justify it in battle; and even without the promise we ought to accept the defiance, for they tell me these Knights are some of King Lisuarte's rash household, whose pride and folly makes them magnify their own worth and despise all others. The King, albeit he felt himself guilty of his brother's murder, and dreaded the battle, yet, because he loved his son as he did himself, gave the safe conduct as the Damsel had demanded, the hour appointed by the Most High being come. The Damsel having accomplished this, said, hold yourselves ready, for to-morrow the Knights will be here. And then she mounted her palfrey, and departed.

Much were the Ladies and the Knights rejoiced at the success of her embassy. When Amadis heard that Darasion held them as fools, because they were of King Lisuarte's household, he grew angry, and exclaimed, there are those in that household who could easily break his pride, and his head too! but, when he had said this, he was ashamed that he had been so mastered by anger. Briolania, who could not keep her eyes off him, observed this, and said, you cannot, Sir, either say or do any thing against those traitors which they have not

deserved, and worse: have pity on me, since you know my father's murder, and my wrongs: my trust is in God and in you. Amadis, whose heart was submiss to virtue and all gentleness, moved with pity for that fair Damsel, answered, if God be so pleased, Lady, I ween that ere to-morrow night your sorrow will be turned into joy. Then Briolania would, for thankfulness, have humbled herself to have kissed his feet, but he drew back abashed, and Agrayes raised her up. They determined to set forward by day-break, and hear mass at the chapel of the Three Fountains, which was half a league from Sobradisa.

That night they made good cheer, and Briolania, who talked much with Amadis, was oftentimes moved to offer marriage to him, but seeing his frequent reveries, and the tears that sometimes fell down his cheeks, which she knew proceeded from no fear in his brave heart, she suspected that he loved elsewhere, and so refrained. At dawn they all departed; and, arriving at the Three Fountains, heard mass from the good Hermit, who hearing wherefore they were on their way, besought God to speed them well in the battle, as he knew their cause was right. There they armed themselves all save the head and hands, and so proceeded to the

city. Without the walls they found King Abiseos and his sons, and a great company attending them: the people all flocked towards Briolania, whom in their hearts they loved, thinking her their rightful and natural Lady. Amadis led her bridle, and uncovered her face,[65:A] that all might see her how beautiful she was: she was weeping, and the multitude blessed her in their hearts, and prayed that she might now be restored to her rights. Abiseos dissembled a feeling from which neither his ambition nor his wickedness could shield him, and seeing how the people flocked round Briolania, he exclaimed, fools, I see how you rejoice in her sight! but it is to your honour and safety that a Knight like me should protect you, not a weak woman; who in so long a time has only been able to get these two Knights for her champions; whom, because they are thus deceitfully brought to their death, or dishonour, I cannot forbear to pity. These words so kindled the indignation of Amadis, that blood seemed starting from his eyes; he rose in his stirrups that all might hear him, and

answered, King Abiseos, I well see how the coming of Briolania troubles you, because you have murdered her father, who was your King and brother: if there be yet virtue enough in you to resign to her what is her own, I will excuse the battle, that you may have leisure for repentance, that, though you have lost your honour in this world, you may save your soul. Before the King could reply, Darasion exclaimed, Thou foolish Knight of King Lisuarte's court! I never thought I could endure to hear a speech like thine: come on! and if your heart fails, you cannot fly where I cannot reach you with such a vengeance, that none can behold it without compassion. Arm thyself, traitor, and do battle! quoth Agrayes. Darasion answered, say what thou wilt now! presently I will send thy tongue without thy body to King Lisuarte's court, as a warning to all such fools! Then they armed themselves; and Amadis and Agrayes laced on their helmets, and took their shields and spears, and entered the place which had been of yore marked out for such trials. Dramis, the second son, who was so good a Knight that no two Knights of that country could keep the field against him, said to his father, Sir, where you and my brother are present, I might well be excused from speaking; but now I have to act with that strength

which I have received from God and you. Leave that Knight who has reviled you to me: if I do not slay him with the first lance-thrust, may I never again bear arms! or if it be his good fortune that the spear does not strike right, the first blow with the sword shall do it. There were many who heard this speech, and did not think it vain boasting, he was of such exceeding strength. Darasion looked round the lists: how is this? quoth he; ye are but two! hath the heart of the third failed him? call him to come directly, for we will not tarry. Trouble not yourself about the third, said Amadis, you will presently wish the second away: now look to your defence!

They placed their shields before them, and gave their horses the rein. Dramis ran right at Amadis, and pierced his shield and broke his lance against his side; but Amadis smote him so roughly, that the spear went through his shield, and, without piercing his breast-plate, burst his heart within him, and he fell like the fall of a tower. In God's name, cried Ardian the Dwarf, my Master's deed is better than his word! The other twain ran at Agrayes: he and Darasion broke their lances upon each other, and both kept their seats. Abiseos failed in his course; he saw Dramis on

the ground, and in great grief, albeit he did not suppose him to be dead, ran full at Amadis, and pierced his shield, and broke the lance in his arm, so that all thought he could not continue the battle. Well may you think how Briolania felt at that; her heart sunk, and the sight of her eyes failed her, and without support she would have fallen from her palfrey. But he, who was not to be dismayed by such wounds, graspt well that good sword which he had so lately recovered from Arcalaus, and struck Abiseos upon the helm; through helm it went, and slanted down the head, and pierced into the shoulder; a slant wound, but so staggering that Abiseos tottered on his seat, and fell, half senseless. Then he of Gaul rode up to Darasion, who was close engaged with Agrayes:—now Darasion, you had rather the second were absent, than that the third were come! Agrayes cried out to him to hold:—Cousin, you have done enough, leave me this man who has threatened to cut out my tongue. Amadis did not hear him; he had made a blow which sliced off a part of the shield, and came through the pummel of the saddle to the horse's neck; but Darasion, as he past, ran his sword into the belly of Amadis's horse; the horse instantly ran away; the reins broke in the rider's hand, and Amadis seeing

that he had no remedy, and that he should be carried out of the lists, struck the beast between the ears with his sword, and split his head; the fall bruised him sorely, but he arose, and turned to Abiseos.

At this time Agrayes had driven his sword into Darasion's helmet, so that he could not recover it. Darasion had forced it from his hand, and was driving at him. Agrayes grappled him; they fell together and struggled on the ground. Abiseos came up, and was lifting the skirts of his armour to thrust his sword into him. Amadis came up in time. The King was compelled to look to his own safety; he lifted his shield, the blow dashed shield against helmet, and made him reel. Agrayes and Darasion had loosed each other: Agrayes caught up Darasion's sword; Darasion plucked the other from his helm, and ran towards his father. Amadis saw that Agrayes was all bloody from a wound in his neck, and fearing it was mortal, he cried, leave them to me, good cousin, and rest yourself! I have no wound, quoth Agrayes, to keep me from aiding you: see if it be so! Have at them, then! cried Amadis; but the fear he felt for his cousin gave him such anger, that presently his enemies, their armour all hacked, and their flesh

too, began to turn here and there disorderly, and with the fear of death. So it continued till the hour of tierce, when Abiseos, seeing death before him, lifted his sword in both hands, and ran desperately at Amadis, and gave him a blow, such as might not be looked for from a man so wounded: it cut away the brim of the helmet, and the shoulder mail and a part of the flesh with it. Amadis felt it sorely, and did not delay to give him his wages: he struck his shoulder, and lopt off that arm with which he had murdered his own king and brother; arm and shoulder he lopt off, and cried, that arm brought thee by treason to the throne, and it now brings thee to death and the depth of hell! The King had fallen in the pangs of death. Amadis looked round him, and saw that Agrayes had smitten off the head of Darasion. Then the people of the land went joyfully to kiss the hand of Briolania their [70:A]Lady.

The conquerors dragged their enemies out of the lists. Amadis, though he was much wounded,

would not disarm himself till he knew if there were any to gainsay Briolania's right. But one of the chiefs of the realm, by name Goman, came before him with an hundred men of his lineage and household, and they declared that they had only endured the usurpation of Abiseos because they had no remedy: now God had delivered them, they were in that loyalty and vassallage which they owed to Briolania. Within eight days all the kingdom came joyfully to do homage to her. Amadis meantime was laid in bed, and that fair Queen never left him but when she went to sleep herself. Agrayes, who was dangerously wounded, was put under the care of a skilful man, who suffered none to approach him, that he might not speak, for the wound was in his throat.

FOOTNOTES:

[65:A] Quitole los antifazes. She was muffled in the Moorish manner, not veiled.

[70:A] There follows in the original a page of advice to all wicked kings and rulers.

CHAPTER 44.

Don Galaor and Florestan remained in the castle of Corisanda till their wounds were well healed, then took they their departure; but Corisanda made such sorrow that it was pitiful to see her, albeit Florestan comforted her, and assured her of his speedy return. They crossed to the mainland, and proceeded towards Sobradisa, hoping to arrive there before the battle. Brother, quoth Florestan, as they rode along, grant me a boon for courtesy. Sir, and good brother, cried Galaor, is it a thing that I shall repent? You will not repent it, said Florestan.—Ask it then; for what I can grant without shame, I shall grant with good will.—I ask then, that you will attempt no combat in this journey till I have tried my fortune. Certes, quoth Galaor, I repent. Not so, replied Florestan, for if there be any worth in me, it is to your honour as well as to mine. Four days they rode without

adventure: on the fifth at evening they came to a Tower. A Knight, who stood at the court-gate, courteously invited them for the night; and there were they worshipfully entertained. The Knight their host, was a fair Knight and a wise, and of goodly stature; but oftentimes he appeared so lost in thought and sadness, that the brethren asked each other what it might mean, and Don Galaor at last said to him, Sir, methinks you are not so chearful as you should be! if your sadness is for any cause which our aid can remedy, tell us, and we will do your will. Many thanks, replied he of the Tower: I believe you would do so like good Knights; but my sadness proceeds from the force of love, and I will not tell you more now, for it would be to my own great shame. The hour of sleeping came on; their host went to his apartment, and the brethren remained in a handsome chamber where there were two beds. In the morning he rode to bear them company, but unarmed; and, that he might see whether they were such in arms as their appearance bespoke them, he led them not along the high road, but through bye ways, till they came to a place called the fountain of the Three Elms, for there were three great and lofty Elm-trees above the fountain. Three fair Damsels and well apparelled, were by the fountain, and there

was a Dwarf aloft in the trees. Florestan went first and saluted them gently, as a courteous man, and one who had been gently bred. God save you, Sir Knight, quoth the one; if you are as brave as you are handsome, God hath gifted you well. Damsel, he replied, if my beauty pleaseth you, my courage would please you more if it were put to proof. You answer well, quoth she: see now, if your courage be enough to carry me from hence.—Certes, quoth Florestan, little goodness is enough for that; since it is your pleasure, I will do it.—He then bade his Squires place her upon a palfrey which was tied to one of the Elms: when the Dwarf, who was sitting up in the tree, cried out aloud, Come forth, Knights, come forth! they are carrying away your mistress! At these words a Knight, well armed and on a great horse, came up from the valley, and cried out to Florestan, Knight! who bid you lay your hands upon that Damsel? I do not think she can be yours, replied Florestan, seeing of her own will she desired me to carry her hence. The Knight answered, though she consent, I do not; and I have defended her against better than you.—I know not how that may be, but unless you act up to your words, carry her away I will!—Learn first what the Knights of the Valley are, and how they defend their mistresses!

With that they ran at each other, and Florestan smote his shield so strongly against his helmet that the laces brake, and the helmet came off. The Knight could not keep his seat; he fell upon his sword, and broke it in two. Florestan turned his horse and pointed his lance at him:—you are dead, unless you yield the Damsel! I yield her, quoth he, and cursed be she, and the day wherein I first beheld her, for she made me commit so many follies that at last I have destroyed myself. Florestan left him, and went to the Damsel, saying, you are mine! You have well won me, quoth she, and may do with me as you please. Let us go then! said he; but one of the other Damsels then said to him, Sir Knight, you are parting good company; we have been a year together, and it grieves us to be separated. Said Florestan, if you chuse to go in my company I will take you also, otherwise you must be separated, for I will not leave so fair a Damsel as this. And if she be fair, quoth the Damsel, neither do I esteem myself so ugly, but that Knight should venture something for me also; but I believe you are not of that temper. What! cried he, think you that I would leave you here for fear? so help me as I would have done so only to respect your free will, but you shall see. He bade the Squires place her also on her

palfrey, and the Dwarf, who sate up aloft, cried out again for help.

Presently there came another Knight from the valley, and said to Florestan, Don Cavalier, you have won one Damsel, and, not content with her, you would carry off another; you must, therefore, lose both, and your head too; for it is not fit that a Knight of such degree as you should have in your keeping a Damsel of such rank. You praise yourself bountifully, quoth Florestan; yet had I rather have two Knights of my kin for my helpers than thee! I neither regard thee nor them, said the Knight: you have won this Damsel from him who could not defend her; if I conquer thee, she shall be mine; if the victory is yours, you shall take the other whom I defend. Content, quoth Florestan. Defend yourself now, if you can! said he of the valley; and they ran their encounter. The Knight pierced through Florestan's shield, and broke his lance against the strong mail. Florestan failed in the race; ashamed at that, when the Knight had taken from his Squire another lance, he ran again, and pierced the shield of his antagonist and the arm that held it, and drove him back upon the crupper of his horse; the horse reared and threw him, and, the ground being hard,

he neither moved hand nor foot. Damsel, said Florestan, you are mine; for methinks your friend can neither help you nor himself. So it seems, quoth she.

Florestan looked at the other Damsel, who now remained alone by the fountain, and saw that she was very sad. Damsel, said he, if it please you, I will not leave you here alone. She did not answer him, but said to his host, Go from hence, I counsel you! you know that these Knights are not enough to protect you from him who will presently be here, and, if he take you, you are sure to die. I will see what may happen, he answered, my horse is swift, and my Tower at hand. Ah, said she, take care of yourself; ye are but three, and you unarmed, and you well know that is nothing against him. When Florestan heard this, he became more desirous to carry away that Damsel, and see him whom she praised so greatly. So he had her also placed on her palfrey; and the Dwarf, who sate up aloft, said, Don Cavalier, in an ill hour are you so bold: here comes one who shall take vengeance for all! and then he shouted out, help! help, Sir! you linger too long! Presently there came another Knight from the same valley; his armour was inlaid with gold, and he

rode upon a bay horse, big enough for a giant. Two Squires came after him, armed with corselets and morions like serving men, and each carried a huge battle-axe in his hand, in the use of which weapon their master prided himself. He cried out to Florestan, stay, Knight, and seek not to fly, for it will not save you: die you must, and it is better die like a brave man, than like a coward! When Florestan heard himself threatened, he waxed wonderous angry, and cried out, come on, wretch and rascal, and clumsy[78:A] fool! So help me God, as I fear thee no more than a great cowardly beast. Ah, quoth the Knight, how it grieves me that I cannot wreak sufficient vengeance upon thee! would that the best four of thy lineage were here, that I might cut off their heads with thine! Protect yourself from one, cried Florestan, you may dispense with the rest. Then, being both greatly incensed, they ran at each other, and the shields and the mails of both were pierced with the violence of the encounter: the large Knight lost

both his stirrups, and was fain to save himself by clinging round his horse's neck. Florestan, as he past on, caught at one of the battle-axes, and plucked it with such force from the Squire who held it, that both the man and his horse were brought to the ground. The Knight of the Valley had recovered his seat, and was ready with the other battle-axe, and Florestan made at him with equal arms: both struck at once, each on the helmet of his enemy; the axes went in three fingers' depth. Florestan bowed his face upon his breast with the weight of the blow: the Knight fell upon the neck of his horse, and the axe, being fast in the other's helmet, slipt from his hand; before he could raise himself, Florestan smote him as he lay between the helm and gorget, so that his head fell at the horse's feet. This done, he turned to the Damsels. Certes, good Knight, quoth the first of them, I once thought that not ten such as you could have won us.

The young Knight, their host, then came up to Florestan, and said, Sir, I love this Damsel dearly, and she loves me. It is a year since this Knight whom you have slain hath forcibly detained her, so that I could not see her: now, that I may receive her from your hands, I beseech you refuse

me not. My host, quoth Florestan, of a truth I will right gladly aid you, if it be as you say; but against her will I will yield her to none. Ah, Sir, cried the Damsel, this is with my will! I beseech you give me to him: he is my true love. Florestan answered, in God's name, dispose of yourself as you like best! and she went joyfully to her true love. Galaor then gave his horse to their friend, and took the bay horse of the dead Knight, which was the handsomest he had ever seen, and then they separated. The two Damsels whom Florestan had won, were young and fair; he took the one to himself, and gave the other to Galaor: I give you to this Knight, said he, and command you to do as he pleases. What! quoth she, do you give me to this Knight, who has not the heart of a woman? who stood by and saw you in such danger, and did not help you? Damsel, answered Florestan, by my faith to God and to you, I swear that I give you to the best Knight whom I know in the world, except it be Amadis my Lord. The Damsel then looked at Galaor, and seeing him so handsome, and so young, she marvelled at his worth, and granted him her love. That night they had their lodging at the house of a Lady, sister to their last night's host. On the morrow they resumed their road, and said to their fair

friends, we have a long journey to perform thro' foreign lands, where you would endure many hardships in following us: tell us where you would like best to go, and there we will conduct you. They replied, that their Aunt had a castle four days journey on that road whither they would go. As they proceeded, Galaor asked his Damsel how she came into the power of those Knights. She answered, that great Knight who was slain loved the Damsel who went with your host, but she hated him. He took her by force, for he was the best Knight in all these parts, and none could gainsay him, yet would she never yield him her love; and he, for the affection he bore her, withheld from offering her any wrong; and he said to her, My fair friend, great reason is it that I should be loved by you, being the best Knight in the world. Now I will do this for your sake: there is a Knight who is called the best that ever was, Amadis of Gaul by name, and he slew my cousin Dardan, in King Lisuarte's court; I will find him, and cut off his head, and then shall I inherit all his renown. Till I do this, I will give you two of the fairest Damsels in all this land for your companions, and they shall have the two best Knights of my lineage for their friends; and you shall every day be taken to the fountain of the Three

Elms, where many Errant Knights pass, that you may see brave jousting, and learn to love me as I love you. He then took us by force, and gave us to his kinsmen, and thus had we past a year, till Don Florestan broke the bonds. That Knight, quoth Galaor, had a haughty mind: what was his name? Alumas, she answered; and, if it had not been for his exceeding pride, he was of great prowess. Thus they proceeded till they reached the Lady's castle, who thankfully entertained them, because they had delivered her nieces from Alumas and his kinsmen, who had forcibly and dishonourably detained them.

Galaor and Florestan proceeded till they reached the kingdom of Sobradisa, and there heard the joyful tidings of what their brother and Agrayes had done. They hastened to the city, and went immediately to the palace, where Amadis and his cousin, now whole of their wounds, were conversing with the new Queen. Amadis, from the Damsel who had guided Galaor, knew who they were, and went to welcome Florestan with tears of joy, embracing and kissing him who would have knelt before him. But when Briolania saw four such Knights in her palace, and recollected how powerful she now was, and how lately she had lived,

not without fear, in a single castle, she knelt down, and thanked the Most High for the mercy he had vouchsafed her. Of a truth, Sirs, said she, these changes are the work of him, before whom the mightiest are nothing; but for this dominion, and this wealth, which we suffer so much anxiety and trouble to gain, and having gained, to keep; would it be better, as being neither certain nor durable in themselves, and as things superfluous and destructive to the body, and moreover to the soul,—would it be better to reject and abhor them? Certainly I say, no: and affirm, that, when they are gained with a good conscience, and justly administered, we may enjoy from them comfort and pleasure and joy in this world, and everlasting glory in the next.

Here endeth the First Book of the noble and virtuous
Knight, Amadis of Gaul.

FOOTNOTES:

[78:A] Ven cativa cosa, y mala, y fuera de razon, sin talle. The language of vituperation is not easily translatable.

AMADIS of GAUL. Book the Second.

CHAPTER 1.

There was a King in Greece married to the sister of the Emperor of Constantinople, by whom he had two fair sons, especially the elder, named Apolidon, who in his days had no equal for strength of body and courage of heart. He having a subtle genius, which is so seldom found with valour, gave himself to the study of the sciences and of all arts, so that he shone among those of his own time like the Moon among the stars; especially he excelled in necromancy, whereby things that appear impossible are done. The King his father was very rich in treasure, but poor in life, by reason of his great age; and seeing himself at the point of death, he commanded that the kingdom should be given to Apolidon, as his eldest son, and his books and treasures to the other. The younger was not contented with this, and told his father so with tears, and complained that he was disherited;

but the old man, not knowing what to do, wrung his hands for pure sorrow. Then that famous Apolidon, seeing his father's grief and the littleness of his brother, bade him take comfort, for he would accept the books and treasure, and relinquish the kingdom to his brother. Whereat the father gave him his blessing with many tears. So Apolidon took his inheritance, and fitted out certain ships, manning them with chosen Knights, and set forth into the sea, trusting himself to Fortune, who seeing his great obedience to his father, and how he had thrown himself upon her mercy, resolved to requite him with glory and greatness. A fair wind carried him to the empire of Rome, where Siudan was then Emperor, at whose court he abode some time, doing great feats in arms, till there grew a true affection between him and the Emperor's sister, Grimanesa, who then flourished among all other women for beauty. So it was that as he was loving, even so was he loved, and as their loves might no other ways be indulged, they left Rome together, and set sail in Apolidon's fleet, and sailed till they came to the Firm Island. There Apolidon landed, not knowing what country it was, and pitched a tent upon the shore, and placed a couch there for his Lady, who was weary of the sea. Presently there came down a fierce Giant,

who was Lord of the island, with whom, according to the custom of the place, Apolidon was to do battle for the preservation of his Lady and himself, and his company. It ended in such sort that the Giant lay dead on the field, and Apolidon remained master of the island. When he had seen its strength, he neither feared the Emperor of Rome, whom he had offended, nor all the world besides; and there he and Grimanesa, being greatly beloved by the islanders, whom he had delivered from their oppressor, dwelt in all happiness for sixteen years. During that time many rich edifices were made, as well with his great treasures, as with his surpassing wisdom, such as it would have been difficult for any Emperor or King, how rich soever, to have completed. At the end of that time the Emperor of Greece died without an heir, and the Greeks, knowing the great worth of Apolidon, and that by his mother's side he was of the blood and lineage of the Emperors, elected him with one common consent to rule over them. He, albeit he was enjoying all possible delights in his own island, yet, with Grimanesa's consent, accepted the Empire; but she, before they left the island where she had enjoyed such rare happiness, requested her husband that he would work such a means by his great knowledge, that that island

might never be possessed, except by a Knight as excellent in arms and loyal in love as himself, and by a Dame resembling her in beauty and truth.

Then Apolidon made an arch at the entrance of a garden, wherein there were all kind of trees, and also four rich chambers, but it was so surrounded that none could enter, except by passing under the arch, over which he placed the Image of a man made of copper, holding a trumpet in his mouth as if he would wind it. And in one of the chambers within he placed two figures, in the likeness of himself and his Lady, the countenances and the stature like unto them, so true that they seemed alive, and near them he placed a bright stone of jasper; and, about the distance of half a cross-bow shot, he made a [87:A]perron of iron. Henceforward, said he, no man or woman who hath been false to their first love shall pass here, for yonder Image shall blow from that trumpet so

dreadful a blast with smoke and flames of fire, that they shall be stunned and cast out as dead. But if Knight, or Dame, or Damsel come, worthy by virtue of true loyalty to finish this adventure, they shall enter without let, and the Image shall make a sound so sweet that it shall be delightful to hear, and they shall see our images, and behold their own name written in the jasper. Grimanesa afterwards ordered some of her Knights and Ladies to make trial, and then the Image blew the dreadful blast with smoke and flames of fire; whereat Grimanesa laughed, knowing them to be in more dread than danger. But yet, my Lord, quoth she, what shall be done with that rich chamber wherein we have enjoyed such great contentment? He answered, you shall see. Then he made two other perrons, one of stone, the other of copper: the stone one was placed five paces from the chamber, the copper one five paces farther off. Know now, said he, that henceforth in no manner, nor at any time, shall man or woman enter this chamber, till a Knight come who surpasses me in prowess, or a woman exceeding you in beauty; they shall enter. He then placed these words in the copper perron: Knights shall advance here, each according to his valour; and in the stone perron, he wrote: here none shall pass except the Knight who exceeds

Apolidon in prowess. And over the door of the chamber he wrote: He who surpasses me in prowess shall enter here, and be Lord of the island. And he laid such a spell, that none could approach within twelve paces of the chamber round about, nor was there any entrance but by the perrons.

Then he appointed a Governor to rule the island, and collect the revenues, which were to be reserved for the Knight who should enter the chamber; and he commanded that all who failed in attempting to pass the Arch of Lovers, should, without ceremony, be cast out of the island; but such as passed through were to be entertained and served with all honour. And farther, he appointed that all Knights who attempted the adventure of the Forbidden Chamber, and did not pass the copper perron, should leave their arms there; but from those who advanced any way beyond it, only their swords should be taken. They who reached to the marble perron should leave only their shields, and if they penetrated beyond that, but failed to enter the chamber, they should lose only their spurs. From the Dames and Damsels who failed, nothing was to be taken, only their names should be placed upon the castle-gate, and an account how far they had advanced. Apolidon then said, when

this island shall have another Lord, the enchantment shall be dissolved, and all Knights may freely pass the perrons and enter the chamber; but it shall not be free for women, till the fairest shall have come, and lodged in the rich chamber with the Lord of the island. These enchantments being thus made, Apolidon and his wife entered their ships, and passed over into Greece, where they reigned during their lives, and left children to succeed them.

FOOTNOTES:

[87:A] Padron is the Spanish word: the English version renders it pillar, but the word means more; there must be a roof and a flooring. Our market-crosses would be called padrones. Perron is used in the English Amadis of Greece.

CHAPTER 2.

While Amadis remained with his comrades at the court of Sobradisa, his thoughts were perpetually fixed upon his Lady Oriana; and, so thoughtful was he, and so often, both sleeping and waking, was he in tears, that all saw how he was troubled, yet knew they not the cause, for he kept his love silent, as a man who had all virtues in his heart. At length, not being able to support a longer absence, he asked permission of the fair young Queen to depart, which she not without reluctance having granted, loving him better than herself, he and his brethren and their cousin Agrayes took the road towards King Lisuarte. Some days had they travelled when they came to a little church, and entering there to say their prayers, they saw a fair Damsel, accompanied by two others, and by four Squires, who guarded her, coming from the door. She asked them whither they went. Amadis

answered, Damsel, we go to the court of King Lisuarte, where, if it please you to go, we will accompany you. Thank you, quoth the Damsel, but I am faring elsewhere. I waited, because I saw you were armed like Errant Knights, to know if any of you would go and see the wonders of the Firm Island, for I am the Governor's daughter, and am returning there. Holy Mary! cried Amadis, I have often heard of the wonders of that island, and should account myself happy if I might prove them, yet till now have I never prepared to go! Good Sir, quoth she, do not repent of your delay; many have gone there with the same wish, and returned not so joyfully as they went. So I have heard, said Amadis: tell me, would it be far out of our road if we went there?—Two days journey.—Is the Firm Island then in this part of the sea, where is the enchanted Arch of True Lovers, under which neither man nor woman can pass that hath been false to their first love? The Damsel answered, it is a certain truth, and many other wonders are there. Then Agrayes said to his companions, I know not what you will do, but I will go with this Damsel, and see these wonderful things. If you are so true a lover, said she, as to pass the enchanted Arch, you will see the likenesses of Apolidon and Grimanesa, and behold

your own name written upon a stone, where you will find only two names written besides, though the spell hath been made an hundred years. In God's name let us go, quoth Agrayes, and I will try whether I can be third. With that, Amadis, who in his heart had no less desire and faith to prove the adventure, said to his brethren, we are not enamoured, but we should keep our cousin company who is, and whose heart is so bold. Thereto they all consented, and set forth with the Damsel. What is this island? said Florestan to Amadis, tell me, Sir, for you seem to know. A young Knight whom I greatly esteem, replied Amadis, told me all I know; King Arban of North Wales: he was there four days, but could accomplish none of the adventures, and so departed with shame. The Damsel then related the history of the enchantments, which greatly incited Galaor and Florestan to the proof.

So they rode on till sunset, and then entering a valley, they saw many tents pitched in a meadow, and people sporting about them, and one Knight, richly apparelled, who seemed to be the chief. Sirs, quoth the Damsel, that is my father: I will go advertise him of your coming, that he may do you honour. When he heard of their desire to

try the enchantment, he went on foot with all his company to welcome them, and they were honourably feasted and lodged that night. At morning they accompanied the Governor to his castle, which commanded the whole island, for at the entrance there was a neck of land, only a bow-shot over, connected with the main land, all the rest was surrounded by the sea; seven leagues in length it was, and five broad, and because it was all surrounded by the sea, except where that neck of land connected it with the continent, it was called the Firm Island. Having entered, they saw a great palace, the gates whereof were open, and many shields hung upon the wall; about an hundred were in one row, and above them were ten, and above the ten were two, but one of them was in a higher niche than the other. Then Amadis asked why they were thus ranked. The Governor answered, according to the prowess of those who would have entered the Forbidden Chamber; the shields of those who could not enter the perron of copper, are near the ground; the ten above them are of those who reached it; the lowest of the two passed that perron, and the one above all reached to the marble perron, but could pass no farther. Then Amadis approached the shields to see if he knew them, for each had its owner's

name inscribed; the one which was the highest of the ten bore a sable lion, with argent teeth and nails, and a bloody mouth, in a field sable: this he knew to be the shield of Arcalaus. Then he beheld the two uppermost; the lower bore, in a field azure, a Knight cutting off the head of a Giant; this was the shield of King Abies of Ireland, who had been there two years before his combat with Amadis: the highest had three golden flowers in a field azure: this he knew not, but he read the inscription, This is the shield of Don Quadragante, brother to King Abies of Ireland. He had proved the adventure twelve days ago, and had reached the marble perron, which was more than any Knight before him had done, and he was now gone to Great Britain to combat Amadis, in revenge for his brother's death. When Amadis saw all these shields, he doubted the adventure much, seeing that such Knights had failed.

They went out from the palace towards the Arch of True Lovers. When they came near, Agrayes alighted and commended himself to God, and cried, Love, if I have been true to thee, remember me! and he past the spell; and, when he came under the arch, the Image blew forth sweet sounds, and he came to the palace, and saw the likeness of

Apolidon and Grimanesa, and saw also the jasper-stone, wherein two names were written, and now his own the third. The first said, Madanil, son of the Duke of Burgundy, atchieved this adventure: and the second was, this is the name of Don Bruneo of Bonamar, son to Vallados, Marquis of Troque: and his own said, this is Agrayes, son to King Languines of Scotland. This Madanil loved Guinda, Lady of Flanders. Don Bruneo had proved the enchantment but eight days ago, and she whom he loved was Melicia, daughter to King Perion, the sister of Amadis.

When Agrayes had thus entered, Amadis said to his brethren, will ye prove the adventure? No, said they, we are not so enthralled that we can deserve to accomplish it. Since you are two, then, quoth he, keep one another company, as I, if I can, will do with my cousin Agrayes. Then gave he his horse and arms to Gandalin, and went on without fear, as one who felt that never in deed or in thought had he been faithless to his Lady. When he came under the arch, the Image began a sound far different and more melodious than he had ever before done, and showered down flowers of great fragrance from the mouth of the trumpet, the like of which had never been done before to

any Knight who entered. He past on to the Images, and here Agrayes, who apprehended something of his passion, met him and embraced him, and said, Sir, my Cousin, there is no reason that we should henceforth conceal from each other our loves. But Amadis made no reply, but taking his hand, they went to survey the beauties of the garden.

Don Galaor and Florestan, who waited for them without, seeing that they tarried, besought Ysanjo, the Governor, to shew them the Forbidden Chamber, and he led them towards the perrons. Sir brother, said Florestan, what will you do? Nothing, replied Galaor: I have no mind to meddle with enchantments. Then amuse yourself here, quoth Florestan, I will try my fortune. He then commended himself to God, threw his shield before him, and proceeded sword in hand. When he entered the spell, he felt himself attacked on all sides with lances and swords, such blows and so many that it might be thought never man could endure them; yet, for he was strong and of good heart, he ceased not to make his way, striking manfully on all sides, and it felt in his hand as though he were striking armed men, and the sword did not cut. Thus struggling, he passed the copper

perron, and advanced as far as the marble one, but there his strength failed him, and he fell like one dead, and was cast out beyond the line of the spell. When Galaor saw this he was displeased, and said, however little I like these things, I must take my share in the danger! and bidding the Squires and the Dwarf to stay by Florestan, and throw cold water in his face, he took his arms and commended himself to God, and advanced towards the Forbidden Chamber. Immediately the unseen blows fell upon him, but he went on, and forced his way up to the marble perron, and there he stood; but, when he advanced another step beyond, the blows came on him so heavy a load, that he fell senseless, and was cast out like Florestan.

Amadis and Agrayes were reading the new inscription in the jasper, This is Amadis of Gaul, the true lover, son to King Perion,—when Ardian the Dwarf came up to the line, and cried out, Help! help, Sir Amadis, your brothers are slain! They hastened out to him, and asked how it was.—Sir, they attempted the Forbidden Chamber, and did not atchieve it, and there they lie for dead! Immediately they rode towards them, and found them so handled as you have heard, albeit some little

recovering. Then Agrayes, who was stout of heart, alighted and went on as fast as he could to the Forbidden Chamber, striking aright and aleft with his sword, but his strength did not suffice to bear the blows, he fell senseless between the perrons, and was cast out as his cousins had been. Then Amadis began to curse their journey thither, and said to Galaor, who was now revived, Brother, I must not excuse my body from the danger which yours have undergone. Galaor would have withheld him, but he took his arms, and went on, praying God to help him. When he came to the line of the spell, there he paused for a moment, and said, O Oriana, my Lady, from you proceeds all my strength and courage! remember me now at this time, when your dear remembrance is so needful to me! Then he went on. The blows fell thick upon him and hard till he reached the marble perron, but then they came so fast as if all the Knights in the world were besetting him, and such an uproar of voices arose as if the whole world were perishing, and he heard it said, if this Knight should fail, there is not one in the world who can enter. But he ceased not to proceed, winning his way hardly, sometimes beaten down upon his hands, sometimes falling upon his knees; his sword fell from his hand, and, though it hung

by a thong from the wrist, he could not recover it, yet holding on still he reached the door of the chamber, and a hand came forth and took him by the hand to draw him in, and he heard a voice which said, Welcome is the Knight who shall be Lord here, because he passeth in prowess him who made the enchantment, and who had no peer in his time. The hand that led him was large, and hard, like the hand of an old man, and the arm was sleeved with green sattin. As soon as he was within the chamber it let go his hold, and was seen no more, and Amadis remained fresh, and with all his strength recovered; he took the shield from his neck and the helmet from his head, and sheathed his sword, and gave thanks to his Lady Oriana for this honour, which for her sake he had won. At this time they of the castle who had heard the voices resign the lordship, and seen Amadis enter, began to cry out, God be praised, we see accomplished what we have so long desired. When his brethren saw that he had atchieved that wherein they had failed, they were exceedingly joyful, because of the great love they bore him, and desired that they might be carried to the chamber; and there the Governor with all his train went to Amadis, and kissed his hand as their Lord. Then saw they the wonders which were in the chamber, the

works of art and the treasures, such that they were amazed to see them. Yet all this was nothing to the chamber of Apolidon and Grimanesa, for that was such, that not only could no one make the like, but no one could even imagine how it could be made; it was so devised, that they who were within could clearly see what was doing without, but from without nothing could be seen within. There they remained some time with great pleasure; the Knights, because one of their lineage was found to exceed in worth all living men, and all who for a hundred years had lived: the islanders, because they trusted to be well ruled and made happy under such a Lord, and even to master other lands. Sir, quoth Ysanjo, it is time to take food and rest for to-day: to-morrow, the good men of the land will come and do homage to you. So that day they feasted in the palace, and the following day all the people assembled and did homage to Amadis as their Lord, with great solemnities and feasting and rejoicing.[101:A]

You have heard in the first part of this great history, how Oriana was moved to great anger and rage by what the Dwarf had said to her concerning the broken sword, so that neither the wise counsels of Mabilia nor of the Damsel of Denmark aught availed her. From that time she gave way to her wrath, so that wholly changing her accustomed manner of life, which was to be altogether in their company, she now forsook them, and for the most part chose to be alone, devising how she might revenge herself for what she suffered, upon him who had caused her sufferings. So recollecting that she could by writing make him sensible of her displeasure, even at a distance, being alone in her chamber, she took ink and parchment from her coffer, and wrote thus:

My frantic grief, accompanied by so great a reason, causes my weak hand to declare what my sad heart cannot conceal against you, the false and disloyal Knight, Amadis of Gaul; for the disloyalty and faithlessness are known which you have committed against me, the most ill-fortuned and unhappy of all in the world, since you have changed your affection for me, who loved you above all things, and have placed your love upon

one who by her years cannot have discretion to know and love you. Since then I have no other vengeance in my power, I withdraw all that exceeding and misplaced love which I bore towards you; for great error would it be to love him who has forsaken me, when in requital for my sighs and passion I am deceived and deserted. Therefore, as the wrong is manifest, never appear before me! for be sure the great love I felt is turned into raging anger. Go, and deceive some other poor woman as you deceived me with your treacherous words, for which no excuse will be received, while I lament with tears my own wretchedness, and so put an end to my life and unhappiness.

Having thus written, she sealed the letter with the seal of Amadis, and wrote on the superscription, I am the Damsel wounded through the heart with a sword, and you are he who wounded me. She then secretly called a Squire, who was named Durin, and was brother to the Damsel of Denmark, and bade him not rest till he had reached the kingdom of Sobradisa, where he would find Amadis; and she bade him mark the countenance

of Amadis while he was reading the letter, and stay with him that day, but receive no answer from him, if he wished to give one.

FOOTNOTES:

[101:A] The Spanish Writer moralizes here a little upon the mutability of fortune.

CHAPTER 3.

Durin, in obedience to the command of Oriana, presently departed, and hasted so well that on the tenth day he arrived at Sobradisa, where he found the new Queen Briolania, whom he thought the fairest woman, except Oriana, that ever he had seen; and learning from her that Amadis had departed two days before, he followed him, and reached the Firm Island just as Amadis was passing under the Arch of True Lovers, and so he beheld how the Image did more for him than ever it had done for any other. And though he saw Amadis after he came forth to his brethren, yet he did not speak with him, nor give him the letter, till after he had entered the Forbidden Chamber, and been received by all as Lord of the island. This he did by Gandalin's advice, who, knowing the letter to be from Oriana, feared that it might cause his Master either to forslow or fail in the

atchieving of so great an enterprise, for he would not only have left off the conquest of the Firm Island, but also of the whole world, to fulfil what she had commanded; but, when every thing was finished, Durin went before him, and Amadis took him apart from his brethren and from all others into a garden, and asked him if he came from the court of King Lisuarte, and what tidings. Sir, said he, the court is as when you left it: I come from thence by the command of my Lady Oriana; by this letter you will know the cause of my coming. Amadis took the letter, and he concealed the joy that was in his heart, that Durin might know nothing of his secret; but his grief he could not conceal when he had read those strong and bitter words, for neither his courage nor reason could support him then, for he seemed struck with death. When Durin saw him so disordered, he cursed himself and his ill fortune, and death, that had not overtaken him on the way. Amadis, for he could not stand, sate down upon the grass, and took the letter which had fallen from his hands, and, when he saw the superscription, again his grief became so violent that Durin would have called his brethren, but feared to do so, observing what secrecy Amadis had chosen. Presently Amadis exclaimed, O Lord, wherefore

does it please thee that I should perish, not having deserved it! and then again, Ah, truth, an ill guerdon dost thou give him who never failed thee! Then he took the letter again, saying, you are the cause of my unhappy end; come here, that it may be sooner! and he placed it in his bosom. He asked Durin if he had aught else to say; and hearing that he had not, replied, well then thou shalt take my answer. Sir, quoth he, I am forbidden to receive any.—Did neither Mabilia nor thy sister bid thee say any thing?—They knew not my coming: my Lady commanded me to conceal it from them.—Holy Mary help me! I see now my wretchedness is without remedy. He then went to a stream that proceeded from a fountain, and washed his face and eyes, and bade Durin call Gandalin, and bid him bring Ysanjo the Governor; and he said to the Governor, promise me, as you are a loyal Knight, to keep secret all that you shall see till after my brothers have heard mass to-morrow; and the same promise he exacted from the two Squires. Then he commanded Ysanjo to open privately the gate of the castle, and Gandalin to take his horse and arms out, privately also. This done they left him, and he remained alone, thinking upon a dream which he had dreamt the last night, wherein it

seemed, that being armed and on horseback he was on a hill covered with trees, and many persons round about him making great joy; when a man from amongst them presented him a box, saying, Sir, taste what I bring you; which he did, and it was exceeding bitter; and therewith feeling himself cast down and disconsolate, he loosed the reins of his horse, and let him go whither he would; and he thought that the mirth of all around him was changed into such sorrow as was pitiful to behold; but his horse carried him far away from them, and took him through the trees to a rocky place surrounded with water; and then it seemed in his dream that he left his horse and arms, as if by that he would have had rest, and there came to him an old man in a religious habit, and took him by the hand as if he had compassion, and spoke to him in a language which he did not understand, whereupon he awoke. Upon this dream Amadis now mused, thinking that he now found it true.

Then hiding his face from his brethren, that they might not see his trouble, he went to the castle-gate, which the sons of Ysanjo had opened. Come you with me, said Amadis to the Governor, and let your sons remain here, and keep this matter

secret. So they went to the foot of the rock, where there was a little chapel, and Gandalin and Durin went with them. There he armed himself, and asked the Governor to what saint that chapel was dedicated.—To our Lady the Virgin, who hath wrought many miracles here. Hearing this, Amadis went in and knelt down, and said, weeping, Our Lady Virgin Mary, the consoler and helper of those that are afflicted, I beseech you to intercede with your glorious Son, that he may have mercy on me; and, if it be your will not to help me in my body, have mercy on my soul in these my last days, for other thing than death I do not hope. He then called Ysanjo, and said, promise as a loyal Knight to do what I shall direct! and turning to Gandalin, he took him in his arms and wept abundantly, and held him somewhile, for he could not speak. At length he said, my good friend Gandalin, you and I were nursed by the same milk, and our lives have been past together, and never have I endured hardship and danger in which you had not your part also. Your father took me from the sea when I was so little, being only that night's child, and they brought me up as a good father and mother bring up their beloved son; and you, my true friend, have always thought how to serve me, and I have hoped in God that he would

one day enable me to requite thee; but now this misery, which is worse than death, is come upon me, and we must part, and I have nothing to leave thee, except this island: I therefore command Ysanjo and all others, by the homage which they have done to me, that so soon as they shall know my death they take thee for their Lord. The Lordship shall be thine, but I enjoin that thy father and mother enjoy it while they live, and afterwards it shall remain to thee. This I do for what they did for my childhood, for my ill fortune will not suffer me to do what they deserve, and what I desire. He then told Ysanjo to take from the rents of the island, which had accumulated, enough to build a monastery by that chapel, in honour of the Virgin Mary, and to endow it for thirty friars. But Gandalin cried out, Sir, you never yet had trouble wherein I was separated from you, nor shall it be now; and if you die, I do not wish to live: and I want no honours or lordships; give it to your brethren, I will not take it, and I do not want it. Hold thy peace, for God's sake, quoth Amadis, and say no such folly to displease me. My brethren are of such worth that they can gain lands for themselves, and to bestow on others. Then he said to Ysanjo, it grieves me, my friend Ysanjo, to leave you before

I could honour you according to your deserts; but I leave you with those who will do it. Ysanjo answered, let me go with you, Sir, and suffer what you suffer. Friend, answered Amadis, it must be as I say; God only can comfort me! I will be guided by his mercy, and have no other company. He then said to Gandalin, if thou desirest knighthood, take my arms; for, since thou hast kept them so well, it is right they should be thine. I shall little need them: if not, my brother Galaor shall knight thee. Tell him this Ysanjo, and serve and love him as thou hast me, for I love him above all my lineage, because he is the best, and hath ever been humble towards me. Tell him, too, that I commit Ardian the Dwarf to his care. They for great sorrow could make him no answer. Then Amadis embraced them, and commended them to God, saying that he never thought to see them more, and he forbade them to follow him; and with that spurred his horse and rode away, forgetting to take either shield, or helmet, or spear. He struck into the mountain, going whither his horse would. Thus he kept till midnight, being utterly lost in thought; the horse came then to a little stream of water, and proceeded upward to find a place so deep that he could drink thereat. The branches struck Amadis in the face, and so

recalled him to himself, and he looked round, and seeing nothing but thickets, rejoiced, thinking that he was hidden in that solitude. So he alighted, and fastened his horse to a tree, and sate upon the green herb by, and wept till his head became giddy, and he fell asleep.

CHAPTER 4.

Gandalin and his companions remained by the chapel, looking after Amadis as he rode so fast away: then Gandalin, who was passionately weeping, cried out, I will follow and carry his arms to him, although he hath forbidden me! And I, quoth Durin, will bear you company for this night. So they left Ysanjo, and getting to horse, rode after him, coasting here and there about the wood, till fortune brought them so near the place where he was lying, that his horse scented theirs, and began to neigh. Then they knew that he was near, and Gandalin alighted, and went quietly through the shrubs till he saw his Master sleeping by the fountain. The Squire then took his horse and led it where he had left Durin, and taking off the bridles from all the horses that they might browze the green boughs, they remained still. It was not long before Amadis awoke, for his sleep

was restless: he rose, and looked round: the Moon was almost down, but it was yet some time till day; then he lay down again, and broke out into pitiful lamentations for his evil fortune.

The two Squires heard all he said and were greatly moved thereat, yet durst they not appear before him. Presently there came up a Knight singing along the way, and, when he was near the place where Amadis lay, he exclaimed, Love, love, I thank thee for exalting me above all other Knights! giving me good first, and better afterwards. You made me affect the fair Queen Sardamira, thinking to secure her heart by the honour which I should bear away from this land; and now, for my greater happiness, you make me love the daughter of the greatest King in the world, the fair Oriana, who hath no peer on earth: you make me love her, and you give me strength to serve her. Saying this, he drew from the wayside to a great tree, whereunder he meant to wait for day-break. Then said Gandalin to his comrade, stay here while I go see what Amadis will do. He went towards the fountain, but Amadis had risen and was seeking his horse; and seeing Gandalin dimly in the night, he cried out, who goes there? tell me, I beseech thee?—Gandalin, Sir!

who is going to bring you your horse.—Who bade thee follow me against my command? you have displeased me: give me my horse and go thy way, and tarry not here, unless thou wouldst have me slay thee and myself. Sir, cried Gandalin, for God's sake no more of this! did you hear the foolish words of a Knight hard by? And this he said to make him angry, that he might forget his displeasure for a while. Amadis answered, I heard him, and therefore want my horse to depart.—How! is this all you will do?—What wouldst thou more?—That you should fight with him, and make him know his folly.—Fool that thou art! I have neither heart, nor strength, nor spirit! having lost all in losing her from whom all came: she gave me courage, and hath taken it away: the most caitiff Knight in Great Britain might slay me now. Sir, said Gandalin, for God's sake speak lower, that Durin may not hear this, for he has heard all that the Knight said.—What! is Durin here?—We came together: I think he tarries to see what you will do, that he may report it to her who sent him. I am vexed at what you tell me, quoth Amadis; but his spirit arose, knowing that Durin was there, and he said, give me my horse then, and guide me to the Knight. He mounted and took his arms, and Gandalin led him where

the Knight sate under a tree, holding his horse by the bridle. You Sir Knight, quoth Amadis, who are enjoying yourself, rise, and let us see if you can maintain the love of which you boast. The Knight arose, and cried, who are you who question me? you shall see how I maintain it, if you dare do battle with me, for I will strike terror into thee, and all who are scorned by Love. I am one of those, quoth Amadis: Love hath foully requited me: I tell thee this, Sir Lover, where I have found one truth in him, I have found seven lies. Come, and maintain his justice: let us see if he has gained more in you than he has lost in me! and, as he spake these words, his anger kindled, feeling how unjustly his Lady had abandoned him. The Knight mounted and took his arms, and said, You Knight, whom Love has justly forsaken, because you were not worthy to serve him, get you gone! I am offended even at the sight of you. And he would have rode away, but Amadis cried out, What, Knight! do you defend your love only with words, and ride off like a coward? How! quoth he: I was leaving thee for contempt, and thou callest it fear! thou art very desirous of thy own hurt: defend thyself now if thou canst! They ran against each other, and both shields were pierced, but the Knight was thrown down: he kept the reins, and

mounted again lightly. Quoth Amadis, If you do not defend Love better with the sword than with the lance, you will be a bad champion. The Knight made no reply, but struck at him in great fury: the sword fell on the rim of the shield, and entered in aslant, and he could not pluck it out. Amadis stood in his stirrups, and gave him a blow on his head, and cut away the trappings of his helmet and the skin of his head, and the sword held on and came upon the neck of the horse, so that he fell dead, and the rider senseless. Amadis waited a minute, thinking that he had slain him; then seeing him recover, he said, Knight, what Love has gained in you, and you in him, you may both enjoy: I leave you. So departing from him, he called Gandalin, and seeing Durin there, he said to him, friend Durin, my sorrow hath no equal, and my grief and recollections are intolerable: it is better that I should die: pray God it may be soon! Go, with good fortune! Salute for me, Mabilia, my good cousin, and the Damsel of Denmark, thy sister; and tell them, if they grieve for me, that I perish more undeservedly than ever Knight perished; and tell them that I sorely regret that those who have loved me so much, and done so much for me, have never had their guerdon! Durin stood weeping before him, and could make

no reply. Amadis embraced him, and he commended him to God, and kissed the skirts of his armour and departed. By this it was day-break: Amadis said to Gandalin, if you chuse to go with me, attempt not to disturb me in whatever I say or do: if you will not obey this, go back. He promised obedience. Then Amadis gave him his arms, and bade him pluck the sword from the shield and give it the Knight, and so they rode on.

CHAPTER 5.

This wounded Knight was Patin, brother to Don Sidon, who was then Emperor of Rome; he was the best Knight in all those lands; and therefore greatly feared throughout the empire. The Emperor was very old, and had no son, therefore all thought this brother should succeed him. He loved Sardamira, Queen of Sardinia, who was a fair and comely Damsel, and being niece to the Empress had been brought up in the court; and he had so far profited by his service, that she had promised him, if ever she married, to marry him. El[119:A] Patin upon this grew more presumptuous, though his natural arrogance was enough; and he

said to her, I have heard that King Lisuarte hath a daughter who is renowned over all the world for her beauty. I will go to his court, and say she is not so fair as you, and this I will maintain against the two best Knights who dare undertake her cause. They say there are Knights there of great worth in arms, but if I do not conquer them in one day, I will that King Lisuarte do cause my head to be cut off! The Queen answered him, do not do this; for, if that Princess be fair, it impaireth not the beauty which God hath bestowed upon me, if beauty there be; and, methinks, you might with more reason and less pride prove your prowess in some other cause, for this enterprize is not becoming a man of so high a rank, and moreover it is unreasonable and arrogant, and you cannot expect it to come to a good end. Come what will, quoth he, I will do it, to prove that you, who are the fairest Lady in the world, have the best Knight for your servant. So he took his leave, and with rich arms and ten Squires passed over into Great Britain, and went directly to where King Lisuarte was, who seeing him so accompanied thought him to be some great personage, and courteously welcomed him. When he was disarmed, all that saw his great stature judged him to be of great courage. Lisuarte then asked him who he was. He

answered, King, I will tell you, for I do not come to your house to conceal myself, but to make myself known. Know, then, that I am El Patin, brother to the Emperor of Rome, and so soon as I see the Queen, and your daughter Oriana, you shall know the cause of my coming. When the King heard that he was a man of so high rank, he embraced him and said, Good friend, much are we pleased with your coming, and you shall see the Queen and her daughter and all others of my house, when it pleaseth you. Then he placed him at his own table, and they were feasted in a manner befitting the table of such a personage. El Patin looked round him, and when he saw so many Knights he was astonished, and began to hold the household of his brother, the Emperor, as nothing. Don Grumedan took him to his lodging, by the King's command, and did him much honour. The next day after mass, the King took with him El Patin and Don Grumedan, and went to the Queen, who received him honourably, and made him sit before her and near her daughter. Now Oriana's beauty was much impaired by reason of her great trouble of mind, yet when El Patin saw her he marvelled greatly, and thought that they who praised her had not mentioned half her beauty, and his heart was entirely changed

from the purpose with which he had come, and wholly bent to obtain her. Wherefore calling to mind his own high birth and great qualities, and moreover that he should one day possess the empire, he thought that if he demanded her in marriage she would not be refused him. So taking the King and Queen apart, he said, I come hither to request the marriage of your daughter, for your worth and for her beauty: if I sought others of her rank, I could obtain them, seeing what I am, and what I expect to be. The King answered, we thank you much for what you say, but the Queen and I have promised our daughter not to give her in marriage against her consent: we must talk with her, before we can answer you. This the King said that he might not offend him, but in his mind he was resolved not to give her to him, or to any other who would carry her out of the land which she was to inherit. El Patin was satisfied with this, and waited five days, expecting a favourable answer; but the King and Queen, thinking it folly, had said nothing to Oriana. Then El Patin asked the King how the business went on. He answered, I do what I can, but it is necessary that you should speak to my daughter, and request her to obey my commands. El Patin went to the Princess, and said, Lady Oriana, I wish to ask a

thing of you which will be much to your honour and profit. What thing is that? quoth she.—That you will do the will of your father. She knowing not for what reason he spake, replied, that shall I right willingly, being sure it will be as you say. Then Patin was full joyful, thinking he had won her, and said, I will go through this land seeking adventures; before long you will hear such things of me, as will make you with more reason grant what I require. And this also he said to the King, telling him that he would see the wonders of his land. The King replied, you have it in you to do this; yet would I dissuade you, for in this land you will find many great and perilous adventures, and many strong and hardy Knights, practised in arms. I like this, quoth El Patin: if they are strong and hardy, I am neither weak nor faint, as my deeds shall show. So he departed, right joyful at Oriana's answer, and for this joy he was singing as you have heard, when his ill fortune led him where Amadis was making moan; and this is the reason why that Knight came from so far a land.

Durin departed from Amadis when it was clear day-light, and he passed by El Patin, who had taken off the piece of his helmet that was left, and

had his face and neck all bloody. He seeing Durin, said to him, Good child, so may God make you a good man as you tell me if there be any place near where I may have remedy for my wound. Yes, quoth he, but all there are so afflicted that they will hardly attend to you.—For what cause?—For the loss of a good Knight, who hath won that lordship, and seen the likenesses and secrets of Apolidon, which none other could ever do, and he is departed in such sorrow that nothing but his death is looked for.—Methinks you speak of the Firm Island?—I do.—What! hath it found a a master? certes I am heartily sorry, for I was going there myself to prove the adventure and win the Island. Durin laughed, and answered, Truly, Sir Knight, if there be no more prowess in you than you have just now manifested, you would have gained little honour! El Patin raised himself as well as he could, and tried to catch his bridle, but Durin turned aside. Tell me, said he, what Knight is he that hath won the Firm Island?—Tell me first who you are?—I am El Patin, brother to the Emperor of Rome.—God-a-mercy! quoth Durin, your birth is better than your prowess or your courtesy. Know that the Knight you ask about is the same who hath just now left you: by

what you have seen you may judge that he is worthy of what he hath won. So he went his way, and took the straight road to London, greatly desirous to tell Oriana all that he had seen of Amadis.

FOOTNOTES:

[119:A] The article is uniformly prefixed to his name, except where he is first mentioned. In our language it is only used where the name is a family or clan appellation: The Plantagenet, the Douglas, the Graham.

CHAPTER 6.

Ysanjo, according to his promise, revealed nothing concerning Amadis till after mass the next day. Then, when his brethren and his cousin enquired for him, he said, arm yourselves, and I will tell you his commands. And, when they were armed, Ysanjo began to weep passionately, and exclaimed, O Sirs, what a grief and a misery is come upon us, that we should lose our Lord so soon! Then he told them all that Amadis had said, and how he besought that they would not seek him, for they could not help his ill, and that they should not grieve for his death. Holy Mary! cried they, the best Knight in the world is about to perish! but we will seek him, and, if we cannot with our lives help him, we will bear him company with our deaths. Ysanjo then told Galaor his brother's request that he would make Gandalin a Knight, and take the Dwarf into his service: this he

delivered weeping, and they weeping also heard it. The Dwarf for pure grief was beating his head against a wall; but Galaor caught him up and said, Ardian come with me, since thy Master has so commanded, and my lot shall be yours. The Dwarf answered, Sir, I will follow you, but not as my Master, till we know some certain tidings of Amadis. Forthwith they went to horse, and all three hastened along the road which Ysanjo pointed. All day they rode on, meeting no one of whom they could ask tidings, till they came where El Patin lay wounded beside his dead horse: his Squires had found him, and were cutting down boughs and poles to make him a litter, for he was exceeding faint with loss of blood, so that he could not answer them, but made sign that they should speak to his Squires, and they replied, that their Lord had sped so ill in an encounter with the Knight who had won the Firm Island. Good Squires, know you which way he went?—No; but before we came up to this place we met an armed Knight in the forest, upon a stout horse, and he was weeping and accusing his fortune: a Squire behind him carried his arms; the shield had two lions azure in a field or., and the Squire was lamenting also. That is he! cried they; and they pushed on with great speed till they came out of

the forest upon a great plain, where there were many roads in every direction, so that they knew not which way to take; therefore they agreed to separate, and meet at the court of Lisuarte upon St. John's day, that if by then they had been unsuccessful in their search, they might consult anew how to find him. There then they embraced and separated, each earnestly bent on his quest, but in vain; for, when Amadis reached the open country, he took none of those roads, but struck aside along a glen, and thence made into the mountain.

He rode on lost in thought, suffering his horse to chuse the path. About noon the horse came to some trees that grew beside a mountain-stream, and then stopt, being weary with the heat and with the toil of last night. Here Amadis recollected himself and looked round, and was pleased to see no signs of a habitation: he alighted and drank of the brook. Gandalin came up, and turning the horses to feed came to his Master, whom he found more dead than alive; and, not daring to disturb him, he lay down before him. Amadis continued in this mood till sunset, then rising, he struck his foot against Gandalin: art thou sleeping? quoth he. No, replied Gandalin, but I am thinking upon two things which concern you, the which, if

it please you to hear, I will speak: if not, I will be silent. Amadis answered, go saddle the horses, and let us begone: I do not chuse to be found by those who seek me. Sir, said Gandalin, you are in a solitary place, and your horse is so weary that, unless you allow him some rest, he cannot carry you. Amadis replied, weeping, do what you think best: whether I stay or go, there is no rest for me! Then Gandalin looked after the horses, and returned to his Master, and begged him to eat of a pasty which he had brought, but he would not. Sir, said he, shall I say the two things whereon I have been thinking? Say what you will, quoth Amadis; I care nothing now for any thing that may be said or done, and wish to live no longer than till I can confess.—Then I pray you hear me, Sir: I have thought much upon that letter which Oriana sent you, and upon the words of the Knight with whom you fought; and seeing how light is the faith of many women, it may be that she hath changed her affections, and so has feigned anger against you, before you discover it. The other thing is, that I believe her to be so good and loyal that she could not have been thus moved, unless some great falsehood had been spoken of you, which she believes and feels in her heart; and, since you know that you have never been

false, you should make the truth known, whereby she will repent of what she hath done, and intreat your forgiveness for the wrong, and you will enjoy your former happiness. It is better to take food with this hope, than, by abandoning yourself to despair, to die and lose her, and the glory of this world, and even the other. Hold thy peace, for God's sake! quoth Amadis, for such foolishness and lies as thou hast uttered, are enough to provoke the whole world. Oriana, my Lady, has never done wrong; and, if I perish, it is but reasonable, not for my deserving, but to accomplish her will and command: if I did not know that thou hast said this to comfort me, I would cut off thy head! you have greatly displeased me: never say the like to me again! He then turned away in anger, and walked along the side of the stream.

But Gandalin, who for two days and a night had not slept, was overcome with heaviness, and at length fell asleep. When Amadis saw this, he saddled his horse, and hid Gandalin's saddle and bridle among the bushes, that he might not be able to find them; and, taking his arms, he struck into the wildest part of the mountain. All night he went; and the next day till vespers, then he came to a plain at the foot of a mountain: there

were two high trees there that grew over a fountain, and there he went to give his horse drink, for they had found no water all that day. When he came up to the fountain, he saw an old man in a religious habit, who was giving his ass water; his beard and hair were grey, and his habit was very poor, being made of goat's hair. Amadis saluted him, and asked him if he was a Priest. The good man answered, he had been one forty years. God be praised! quoth Amadis: I beseech you for the love of God stay here to-night, and hear my confession, of which I am in great need. In God's name! said the old man. Then Amadis alighted, laid his arms upon the ground, and took the saddle from his horse and let him feed; and he disarmed, and knelt before the good man, and began to kiss his feet. The good man took him by the hand and raised him, and made him sit by him, and, beholding him well, he thought him the goodliest Knight that ever he saw, but he was pale, and his face and neck were stained with tears, so that the old man had great pity, and said, Sir Knight, it seems that you are in great affliction: if it be for any sin that you have committed, and these tears spring from repentance, in a happy hour came you here! but if it be for any worldly concerns, from which by your

youth and comeliness it seems you cannot be removed, remember God, and beseech him of his mercy to bring you to his service. He then raised his hand and blessed him, and bade him relate all the sins he could call to mind. Hereon Amadis began the whole discourse of his life, without letting any thing pass. The good man then said, seeing that you are of such understanding, and of so high a lineage, you ought not to despair and cast yourself away for any thing that may befall you, much less for the action of a woman, for they are as easily won as lightly lost. I counsel you to lay aside such folly, for the love of God, to whom it is displeasing, and even for worldly reason, for man ought not to love where he is not beloved. Good Sir, replied Amadis, I am now in such extremity that I cannot live any long time: I beseech you, by that God whose faith you hold, take me with you for the little while I have to live, that I may have comfort for my soul. My horse and arms I need no longer: I will leave them here, and go with you on foot, and perform whatever penitence you enjoin. If you refuse, you will sin before God, for else I shall wander and perish in this mountain. When the good man saw him thus resolute, he said to him, with a heart wholly bent to his good, Certes, Sir, it becomes not a Knight like you to abandon

himself as if he had lost the whole world, by reason of a woman: their love is no longer than while they see you with their eyes, and hear such words as you say to them, and that past, presently they forget you; especially in those false loves that are begun against the Lord: the same sin which makes them sweet at first, gives them a bitterness in the end, as you experience. But you who are of such prowess, and have such power, you who are the true and loyal protector of such as are oppressed, great wrong would it be to the world if you thus forsake it. I know not what she is who hath brought you to this extremity, but if all the worth and beauty of the sex were brought together in one, I know that such a man as you ought not to be lost for her. Good Sir, quoth Amadis, I ask not your counsel upon this, where it is not wanted; but, for my soul's sake, I pray you take me in your company, for else I shall have no remedy, but to die in this mountain. The old man hearing this, had such compassion on him that the tears fell down his long white beard. Sir, my son, said he, I live in a dreary place, and a hard life; my hermitage is full seven leagues out at sea, upon a high rock, to which no ship can come except in summer time. I have lived there these thirty years, and he who lives there must renounce all the

pleasures and delights of the world, and all my support is the alms which the people of the land here bestow upon me. I promise you, said Amadis, this is the life I desire for the little while I shall live, and I beseech you, for the love of God, let me go with you. The good man, albeit against his will, consented; and Amadis said, now, Father, command me what to do, and I will be obedient. The good man gave him his blessing, and said vespers, and then taking bread and fish from his wallet, he bade Amadis eat; but Amadis refused, though he had been three days without tasting food. You are to obey me, said the good man, and I command you to eat, else your soul will be in great danger if you die. Then he took a little food; and when it was time to sleep, the old man spread his cloak and laid him down thereon, and Amadis laid himself down at his feet.

The most part of the night Amadis did nothing but turn from side to side, but at last being sore wearied he fell asleep, and in that sleep he dreamt that he was fastened in a dark chamber, where there was no light at all, neither could he find any way to come out thereof, whereat he greatly lamented; then he thought that his cousin Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark came to him, and

there was a sun-beam before them which dispelled the darkness, and they took him by the hand, saying, Come forth, Sir, to this great palace. And he thought that he was right joyful; and going out he saw his Lady Oriana surrounded with a great flame of fire, whereat he cried out, Holy Mary, help her! and ran through the fire to save her, feeling no hurt, and took her in her arms and carried her into a garden, the greenest and pleasantest that ever he had seen. At the loud cry which he made the good man awoke, and took him by the hand, asking him what he ailed? Sir, said he, I felt such pain in my sleep that I was almost dead. So it seemed by your cry, said the old man, but it is time to set out; then he got upon his ass. Amadis would have walked by him, but the good man with great entreaty made him mount his horse, and so they fared on together.

As they went, Amadis besought him to grant one boon, which should be no-ways hurtful, the which the old man granted. I pray you then, said Amadis, that so long as we are together you will not tell any man who I am, nor any thing concerning me, and that you will call me by some other name, not my own; and, when I am dead, you tell my brethren of me, that they may take my body into

their country. Your life and death, said the good man, are in the hands of God, so talk no more of this, he will help you if you know and love and serve him as you ought; but tell me, by what name will you be called?—Even by whatever it shall please you.—So the old man, seeing how fair he was, and in how forlorn a condition, replied, I will give you a name conformable to your appearance and distress, you shall be called Beltenebros. Now Beltenebros being interpreted, signifyeth, the Fair Forlorn. The name pleased Amadis, and he admired the good sense of the old man in chusing it; so by this name he was long known, till it became as renowned as that of Amadis. Thus communing they reached the sea-side just as the night closed in; there they found a bark, wherein the good man might cross to his hermitage. Beltenebros gave his horse to the mariners, and they gave him in exchange a cloak of goat skin, and a garment of coarse grey woollen. They embarked, and Beltenebros asked the good man what was his own name, and the name of his abode. They call my dwelling-place, said he, the Poor Rock, because none can live there without enduring great poverty: my own name is Andalod. I was a clerk of some learning, and spent my youth in many vanities, till it pleased God to awaken me, and then I withdrew

to this solitary abode: for thirty years I have never left it, till now that I went to the burial of my sister. At length they reached the Rock and landed, and the mariners returned to the main land. Thus Amadis, now called Beltenebros, remained on the Poor Rock, partaking the austerities of the hermit, not for devotion, but for despair, forgetful of his great renown in arms, and hoping and expecting death,—all for the anger of a woman!

When Gandalin awoke in the mountain, he looked round him, and seeing only his own horse, started up, misdoubting what had happened; he called aloud, and searched among the shrubs in vain, he could find neither Amadis nor his horse. Then, knowing that Amadis was departed, he turned to his horse to ride after him, but the saddle and bridle were gone! upon that he cursed himself and his evil fortune, and the day wherein he was born, going from one place to another, till at length he espied the harness, and immediately set out on pursuit. Five days he rode on, sleeping in desert places, enquiring at every habitation for his Master. On the sixth, chance led him to the fountain where Amadis had left his armour. Here he beheld a tent, in which were two Damsels: he

alighted, and asked them if they had seen a Knight who bore two lions azure in a golden field. They answered that they had not seen him, but such a shield and the whole harness of a Knight, they had found beside that fountain. When Gandalin heard this, he tore his hair, and exclaimed, Holy Mary, help me! my Master, the best Knight in the world, is dead or lost! how badly have I served you, my Lord! and now with reason ought I to be hated by all men, and the earth ought not to suffer me upon her, since I have left you at such a time! You were he who succoured all, and now all have forsaken you! the world and all in it have abandoned you! and I, caitiff wretch, and more wretched than all that ever were born, have left you in your death! And with that, for excess of passion, he fell down. The Damsels shrieked out, Holy Mary, help! the Squire is dead! and they ran to him, and flung water in his face, but it was long before they could recal him to his senses. Good Squire, they cried, be not desperate for a thing which is not certain: you had better seek him till you learn whether he be alive or dead: good men ought to bear up against sorrow, not to die in despair. Gandalin took heart at their words, and resolved to seek his Master as long as he lived.

Ladies, said he, where did you see these arms?—We will tell you willingly: we were in the company of Don Guilan the Pensive, who delivered us and twenty other Knights and Damsels from the prison of Gandinos the ruffian, behaving himself there so valiantly that he hath destroyed the wicked customs of the castle, and constrained the Lord thereof to swear never more to maintain the same. We came with Guilan to this fountain four days ago, and when he saw the shield for which you enquired, he was very sorrowful, and alighting, said, the shield of the best Knight in the world should not lie thus! and with that, weeping sorely, he hung the shield upon this tree, and bade us keep it while he rode to seek him whose it was. We set up our tents here, and Guilan sought for him three days without success: yesterday he returned, and this morning, giving his own arms to his Squires, he girded on the sword and took the shield, saying, By God, shield, thou makest a bad exchange, in losing thy master to go with me! He told us, he would carry the arms to Queen Brisena. We also, and all who were delivered by him, are going to that court, to beg the Queen of her goodness to recompense Don Guilan, as the Knights will beseech the King.

Then God be with you! quoth Gandalin. I shall take your advice; and, as the most caitiff and unhappy wretch in the world, go seek for him upon whom my life or death depends.

CHAPTER 7.

On the tenth day after he had left Amadis in the forest, Durin reached London, and, alighting at his own lodging, went straight to the Queen's palace. So soon as Oriana saw him, her heart throbbed violently, so that she could not calm it, and she went into her chamber and lay down upon the bed, bidding the Damsel of Denmark go for her brother, and bring him to her secretly. The Damsel returned with Durin, and leaving him with her mistress, went out to Mabilia. Now, friend, said Oriana, tell me where you have been, and where you found Amadis, and what he did when he read my letter, and if you have seen Queen Briolania: tell me every thing. Then Durin related how he had followed Amadis from Sobradisa to the Firm Island, and arrived there just as Amadis was passing under the Arch of True Lovers, under the which none might pass

that had been false to his first love. How, cried she, dared he prove that adventure, knowing that he could not accomplish it? It did not turn out so, replied the Squire; he accomplished it with more loyalty than any other had ever there displayed, and was received with more honour, and such signs as had never been seen before. When Oriana heard this, her joy was very great, that that which had occasioned her great anger was thus disproved. He proceeded with his tale, how Amadis had won the Forbidden Chamber. Hold! quoth she, and she lifted up her hands and began to pray God that she might one day be in that Chamber with him who had worthily won it. Now, quoth she, tell me what did Amadis when you gave him the letter? The tears came into Durin's eyes. Lady, I advise you not to ask, for you have done the worst cruelty and devilry that ever Damsel committed. Holy Mary! cried Oriana, what art thou saying? I say, repeated Durin, that you have unjustly destroyed the best and truest Knight that ever woman had, or will have to the end of the world. Cursed be the hour in which such a thing was devised, and cursed be death that did not take me before I carried such a message: if I had known what I carried, I would rather have slain myself than have appeared before

him, for you in sending that letter, and I in taking it, have been the cause of his death. Then he related every thing that had passed, and all that Amadis had said, and how he was gone into the mountain to die. While he was relating these things, all Oriana's anger was gone, and her shame and anguish became so intolerable, that when he had ceased she could not utter a word, but remained like one who had lost her senses. Durin, albeit that he thought she well deserved this suffering, was yet moved to pity, and he went to Mabilia and his sister, and said to them, go and help Oriana, for, if she hath done wrong, her punishment is come upon her: and he went his way.

They ran to her, and seeing in what state she was, they fastened the door of her chamber, and threw water in her face, and brought her to herself, and she then began to lament what she had done, and cry out for death. But those true friends sent again for Durin, and learnt from him all that had past, and then began to comfort her, and they made her write a letter to request his forgiveness, and bid him come with all speed to the castle of Miraflores, there to receive her atonement. This letter the Damsel of Denmark would take and search for him, for she refused no trouble or difficulty

for the two persons in the world whom she loved best; and, because Amadis in his sorrow had talked so much of Gandales, they thought he might be with him; and they agreed, as a pretext for her going there, that she should carry gifts to the Queen of Scotland, and tidings of her daughter Mabilia. Oriana therefore told her mother they were about to send the Damsel, and Brisena approving thereof, sent also presents from herself. This being settled, the Damsel, in company with her brother Durin, and Enil, a nephew of Gandales, rode to a port called Vegil, which is in that part of Great Britain towards Scotland, and embarking there, in seven days they came to the town called Poligez, in Scotland. From thence they proceeded to the castle of Gandales; him they met going to the chace, and saluted him; and he, perceiving that the Damsel was of a foreign land by her speech, asked her from whence she came. I am the messenger, quoth she, of some Damsels who love you much, and who have sent gifts to the Queen of Scotland.—Good Damsel, and who are they?—Oriana, daughter of King Lisuarte, and Mabilia, whom you know. Then Gandales joyfully bade them welcome, and took them to his castle. As they were conversing, the old Knight enquired for his foster son, Amadis. At this the

Damsel was grieved, perceiving that he was not there as they had hoped; but, not to distress Gandales by the truth, she only answered that he was not yet returned from Sobradisa. We thought, said she, that he would first accompany his cousin Agrayes here, to see you and the Queen his aunt; and I bring letters to him from Queen Brisena and his other friends, which he would be right glad to receive. This she said, that if Amadis were there in secret, he might be induced to see her. She remained with Gandales two days, then proceeded to the Queen.

CHAPTER 8.

Don Guilan the Pensive proceeded with the arms toward the court of Lisuarte. He always carried the shield of Amadis round his neck, except when he was constrained to fight, and then he took his own. So as he rode, two nephews of Arcalaus met him and knew the shield, and attempted to force it from him, saying they would take that shield, or the head of him who carried it, to their uncle. When Guilan knew of how bad a race they were, he cared the less for them, and gave them both battle. They were strong Knights, and both younger men than he; he, nevertheless, was a valiant man and tried in arms, so that he slew one, and drove the other to flight. That evening he took up his lodging in the house of a Knight whom he knew, who welcomed him gladly, and gave him another lance, for his own was broken in the encounter. He continued his way till he

came to a river called Guinon, which was a great water, and over it was a wooden-bridge, just so broad that one horseman might come and another go. At one end of the bridge was a Knight who wished to pass; he bore a shield vert, with a bend argent, whereby Guilan knew him to be his cousin Ladasin. On the other side was a Knight who kept the passage; he rode a large bay horse, and did bear in his shield argent a lion sable: this Knight called out aloud to Ladasin, You must joust, Knight, if you would pass. Your joust shall not prevent me, quoth Ladasin. They ran at each other upon the bridge, and Ladasin and his horse fell into the river. There would Ladasin have perished, by reason of the weight of his arms, and the height whence he had fallen, if by good hap he had not caught the boughs of some willows, by which he got to the bank. Don Guilan ran to his help, and with the aid of his Squires got him out of the water. Cousin, said he, you would hardly have been saved without these boughs: all Knights should avoid to joust upon these bridges, for they who keep them have their horses practised to the place, and rather by that, than by their own prowess, win the honour. I would rather turn out of the way and go round, if this had not happened to you, but now I must try to revenge you. By this,

Ladasin's horse had got upon the opposite bank, and the Knight bade his servants lead him to the castle, which was a strong and pleasant fortress, built in the river, and the way to it was by a bridge of stone. The Knight was ready at the bridge-end. Don Guilan gave the shield of Amadis to his Squire, and took his own, and they met together upon the bridge with a most rude encounter. The Knight was unhorsed and fell into the water; Guilan also was dismounted, and his horse went over, but he saved himself by clinging to the planks. The Knight got upon Guilan's horse, and so to shore, while Guilan's Squires took the bay courser for their master. Don Guilan presently saw the Knight of the bridge shaking off the water, and holding the bridle: give me my horse, said he, and let me depart. How! quoth he, think you to escape so lightly with this?—Quoth Guilan, have we not performed the custom? The battle is not yet over, cried the Knight, because we both fell: we must decide it with the sword. Perforce must I fight? cried Guilan: is not the wrong done already enough, for bridges should be free for every passenger? Will you, nill you, quoth he of the bridge, you shall feel how my sword can cut. He then sprung upon Guilan's horse, without setting his foot in the stirrup, and

placed himself right in the road. Don Cavalier, tell me, said he, before we fight, if thou art of Lisuarte's country or court?—Why ask you?—I wish it pleased God, that I had King Lisuarte here as I have thee, by my head his reign should be finished. Certes, quoth Guilan, you have now given me a good will to fight with thee, which before I had not: I am of his household, and, if it be in me, you shall never more do him disservice. Before noon, quoth the Knight, you shall carry my message to him, and I will tell you who I am, and what present I will send him: my name is Gandalod, son to Barsinan, Lord of Sansuena, he whom King Lisuarte slew in London. The presents you shall carry him, are the heads of four of his Knights, whom I hold prisoners in yonder tower: the one is Giontes his nephew, and thy own right hand, which I mean to cut off and tie round thy neck. Don Guilan laid hand to sword; you have boasting enough, if that were all that were needed.

Then began so fierce a battle, that Ladasin and the Squires thought even the conqueror could not escape with life; but they were both hardy Knights, and their armour of excellent temper, and they knew how to defend themselves. Now when their

fight was at the hottest, they heard the winding of a horn from the top of the tower. Gandalod knew not what it could mean, and Guilan thought it was a signal for succour to his enemy; therefore they both more eagerly bestirred themselves to end the battle. Gandalod grappled with him, and they both fell; then was the fight closer and more dangerous, but Guilan had the advantage; it was evident that his antagonist waxed weary and weak, and at length, by a well driven blow, Don Guilan lopt off his right arm. He shrieked out, and turned to fly to his tower, but Guilan reached him, plucked the helmet from his head, and bade him chuse instant death, or to present himself with his presents, but in another guise, to King Lisuarte. I will rather trust his mercy, quoth Gandalod, than be slain here outright.

Don Guilan then took horse, and rode with Ladasin towards the tower, where there was a great uproar. The Knights had broken from their prison and seized arms, and one of them it was who wound the horn, and now they had won the castle; the gate was opened, and the servants and one Knight came flying out: they called out to Ladasin and Guilan to kill those villains, and particularly the Knight: three of the men escaped them,

but the Knight they took. Then said Guilan to them, Sirs, I cannot tarry, but my cousin Ladasin shall keep you company; let the castle be kept for me, and do you carry this Knight and Gandalod to King Lisuarte for his judgment. Then he gave his own shield, which was much battered, to his Squire, and took that of Amadis, and as he hung it round his neck the tears came. They knew the shield, and hearing how Don Guilan had found it, were sorely troubled, thinking that some great mishap had befallen Amadis. So he proceeded to the court, and all that saw the shield crowded round him; and the King said, for God's sake, Don Guilan, tell us what you know of Amadis. I know nothing of him, Sir, quoth he, but how I found the shield I will declare before the Queen. So he was taken to the Queen, and he knelt before her weeping, and told her how he had found the arms of Amadis, and sought for him three days in vain. Knowing, said he, the value of that good Knight, and that it was his desire to employ it till death in your service, I have brought you these arms, in testimony of the duty which I do owe both to you and to him. Let them be placed where all may see them; there may be some among the many strangers who come here, who may know some tidings of their master, and they

will be memorials to all who follow arms, that they may take example by his great chivalry. Greatly was the Queen distressed at this, and Lisuarte also, and all the court; but Oriana could not remain there, and she went to her bed, and bitterly reproaching her own folly, wished for death. Albeit Mabilia did somewhat cheer her with a hope that the Damsel of Denmark might find him and repair all.

The Knight and Damsels whom Don Guilan had released, soon arrived, and the two Damsels who had seen Gandalin, and they related what lamentation a Squire had made over the arms. Presently after came Ladasin, and the Knights who led Gandalod prisoner; and when Lisuarte heard what cruelties he had purposed, he said to him, here I slew thy father for the great treason which he committed against me, and here thou shalt die for that which thou didst purpose to commit. So he commanded him, and the Knight his follower, to be thrown from the Tower, before which Barsinan had been burnt.

CHAPTER 9.

Beltenebros and the Hermit were one day sitting on the stone-bench by the door of their chapel, when the old man said, I pray you, son, tell me what it was that made you cry out so in your sleep, when we were by the fountain of the plain? That shall I willingly, father, he replied, and I beseech you tell me what you understand by it. Then he related to him the manner of his dream, only the names of the women, those he did not tell. The good man mused for a while, and then said, with a cheerful countenance, Beltenebros, you have given me great pleasure by this account, and you also have great reason to rejoice. The dark chamber, in the which you thought yourself to be, and from whence you could not get out, signifieth this great tribulation which you now endure. The Damsels who opened the door, are those friends who continually solicit your cause

with her whom you love so much, and they will succeed so well as to withdraw you from this place. The sun-beam which went before them, is the joyful news that they are to send you here; and the fire, wherein you saw your Lady enveloped, is the great pain of love which she suffers for you as well as you for her: from that fire you delivered her, that is, from the pain which your presence will remove; and the pleasant garden is a sign of great happiness, wherewith you shall pass your lives. Truly, I know a man of my habit should not discourse of such things as these, yet it is more for God's service to speak the truth that may comfort you, than to conceal it, seeing your desperate state.

Beltenebros knelt down and kissed the old man's hands, thanking God for having given him such a friend in his need, and praying with tears that he would mercifully be pleased to accomplish the words of that holy man his servant. Then he besought him to tell the interpretation of the dream he had dreamt before Durin gave him the letter, which when the Hermit had heard, he answered, This I can show you clearly, for it is all accomplished. The place overshadowed with trees, was the Firm Island, and the people who made such

great joy about you, signified the great pleasure of the Islanders in gaining you for their Lord. The man who came to you with the box of bitter electuary, was the messenger of your Lady, for the bitterness of her words, you, who have proved them, can best tell; and you laid aside your arms. The stony place amidst the water, is this Poor Rock; and the religious man who spoke to you in an unknown tongue, am I, who tell you the holy word of God, which before you neither knew nor thought of.

Verily, said Beltenebros, you tell me the truth of this dream, for these things have all come to pass, and therefore great cause have I to hope for the future. Yet was not this hope so great or so certain as to remove his sorrow, for he would often sit with his eyes fixed upon the ground, remembering what he had been, and his life would have been endangered by exceeding melancholy, had it not been for the counsel of that good man. And sometimes, to take him away from that pensiveness, the Hermit would make him go with two nephews that kept him company there, to angle in a little stream hard by, where they caught plenty of fish.