CHAPTER XXXIII

OF THE LADY BELGÉ

While the two knights tarried at the court of Queen Mercilla, being entertained by her in the most liberal fashion, there came two youths from a foreign land, praying for help for their mother, the Lady Belgé. It was a piteous story that they told before the Queen Mercilla and all the knights and ladies of her court. The Lady Belgé had been in former days among the most fortunate of women. She had to husband a most worthy and noble prince, of wide dominions and great wealth; she had also a very fair progeny, even seventeen sons, fair children, and of great promise. Anyone who saw them in those days would surely have said that not Niobé herself, before she moved the wrath of Apollo and Diana, was more blessed in her progeny. Now the beginning of troubles to this honourable lady was that her husband died in his prime, before any of his children had come to such an age that they could fill his place. And because the times were ill-suited to a woman’s rule, she was constrained to look for someone who should give her help and protection. Now there was in those parts a monstrous creature, Geryoneo by name, son of that Geryon who was slain by Hercules. He was terrible to look upon, and marvellously strong, for he had three bodies joined in one, the legs and arms of three men, as it were, to help him in the fighting. He, feigning himself to be just and kind, proffered his service to the Lady Belgé while she was yet in the first trouble of her widowhood, undertaking to defend her against all enemies both from within and from without. This proffer she gladly accepted, and he, for a time, kept the promise which he had made well and loyally. But having established himself in the country, and Belgé having given into his hands all the power, he began to bear himself most cruelly. Many wrongs did he do to this most unhappy lady, but of all the wrongs the worst was this, that he took of her children, one after another, to offer up in sacrifice to a horrible idol which he had made of his father Geryon. Twelve had he taken, one by one, so that now there were left to the unhappy mother but five only. And now, all other hope having been lost, she bethought her of the gracious Queen Mercilla, and sent her two eldest sons to entreat her help.

When they had told their story there was for a while silence in the court, no one caring to take this adventure upon himself. And when Prince Arthur saw that no one offered himself, he stood forth and said: “Grant me leave, gracious queen, to succour this distressed lady!”

“Readily do I grant it,” said the queen. Thereupon he began straightway to prepare himself for his journey, for he would not lose time; even on the morrow would he start on this adventure. And so it was. So soon as the next morning came the prince set forth, not without gifts from the queen. Sir Artegall he left to follow his own business, but the two young sons of the Lady Belgé went with him, guiding him on his way.

It was but a short journey to the place where the Lady Belgé dwelt. The tyrant had shut her out from the cities of her land, and from all the pleasant spots; she had her abode in the midst of marshes and fens, and was glad to find shelter in them from the cruelty of her oppressor. In such a dismal region did Prince Arthur find her, living quite alone, for her children had left her, seeking safety elsewhere. And she herself, when she caught sight of a man clad in armour, made ready to fly. But then, spying her own two sons, she took heart, and looked up joyfully, for she knew that the stranger was come to give her help. Then she threw her arms round the necks of the two lads as they knelt before her, crying, “Oh, my sweet boys, now I seem to live again, so joyful a thing is it to see you! Surely the sun shines brighter than its wont, thanks to your coming and to the presence of this noble knight.” Then turning to Prince Arthur she said: “Noble sir, who have taken all this trouble to help a miserable woman, may heaven reward you for your goodness. Reward have I none to give, for all that is left to me is bare life, and that life so full of misery that it is more like to a lingering death!”

The prince was not a little moved at these sorrowful words, and sought to comfort her. “Take heart, dear lady,” he said, “for help is at hand, and these, your troubles, will have an end. But now come with me, and find some spot where you may more conveniently dwell than in this miserable place.”

“Ah sir,” she answered, “to what place shall I go? The enemy dwells in my palaces, my cities are sacked, my towers are levelled with the ground, and what were abodes of men are fields where the wild flowers grow. Only these marshes, the abode of efts and frogs, are left to me.”

“Nay, good lady,” answered the prince, “think better things than these. We will find some place to harbour us. And if it yield not itself willingly, then will we compel it; for all that your adversary may do, we will purchase it with spear and shield; and if not, then the open field shall give us welcome; earth has a lodging for all its creatures.” With such words did the prince encourage her, so that she made ready to go with him.

They set out therefore and came to a city which once had been the Lady Belgé’s own, but had been taken from her by her enemy. He had pulled down its stately towers, closed its harbour, marred the trade of its merchants, and brought its people to poverty. And he had built a great fort from which he dominated the place. For a while the city had resisted his tyranny, but had now submitted itself to him, so purchasing life, but losing all else that is worth the having. Many things did it suffer from his tyranny, but of all that it endured the worst was this, that it was compelled to offer sacrifices of human life to a hideous idol which the tyrant had set up in a chapel which he had built and adorned with costliest fittings of gold and ivory. In this city he had put a strong garrison, and in command of this garrison he had set a seneschal, a very stalwart knight, who had vanquished hitherto all the knights that had ventured to come against him. He had vanquished them, and when he had them in his power he had dealt with them in the most shameful fashion.

When the Lady Belgé knew the place, she said to the prince, “Oh, sir, beware what you venture; very many knights have been undone at this place.” To this warning he paid no heed, but riding up to the wall of the city, called to the watchmen, “I challenge to single combat the seneschal of this fortress.” Nor did the man delay to come, but donning his armour, rode forth from the city gate. The two combatants met in full tilt in the open field, charging each the other with his spear full upon the shield. But the spear of the seneschal made no way, of so pure and well-refined a metal was the prince’s shield. Broken was it into pieces without number. But the spear of the prince passed through the pagan’s cuirass, and made a deep wound in his body, so that he fell from his horse to the ground. There the prince left him to lie, for he was dead almost before he touched the ground, and rode straight to the fortress seeking entrance. But as he rode he spied three knights advancing towards him at the top speed of their horses. All three charged him at once, all aiming their spears at one place in his armour. But the prince did not swerve from his straight seat in his saddle, no, not by a hair’s-breadth. Firm as a tower he sat, and with his spear he smote that one of the three who had the middle place. Nor was his smiting in vain, for he drove the spear through the shield and through the side of the man, so that he fell dead straight-way on his mother-earth. When his fellows saw how easily he had been overcome, they fled away as fast as their steeds could carry them. But the prince followed yet faster, and overtook them hard by the city gate. There, as they hasted to enter, one hindered the other, and the prince slew the hindmost. The third, striving to shut the gate in his adversary’s face, was hindered by the carcase of his companion, for it lay in the way. So he fled into the hall which stood at the entering in of the gate, hoping so to save himself, but the prince following hard after him, slew him there. When they that were left of the garrison saw how it had gone with these three, they were sore afraid, and fled in great terror, escaping by a postern door. When the prince found no more to oppose him, he returned to the Lady Belgé, and brought her into the city, her two sons being with her. Many thanks did she render for the good service which he had done her.

When the tidings of what had befallen the seneschal and his knights came to the sultan, he was carried out of himself with rage. Nevertheless there was something of fear mingled with his rage, for his conscience smote him with the thought that the recompense of his evil deeds was at hand. Nevertheless he comforted himself with this: “There is but one of them, and he cannot always prevail.” Therefore he armed himself: also he took with him all the followers that he had, and marched to the gate of the city, and there demanded entrance, saying, “Yield me up this place straightway, for it is my own.”

To this summons the prince made no answer, but rode forth through the gate, ready armed for battle. And being on the farther side he said, “Are you he that has done all this wrong to the noble Lady Belgé, exiling her from her own land in such fashion that all the world cries shame on you?”

The tyrant answered, “I stand on my own right; what I have done, that will I justify!” So saying he ran furiously at the prince, beating upon his armour with a great battle-axe as if he would have chopped it in pieces. So fierce was his onset that the prince was constrained to give place awhile. So heavy were his strokes, one had thought they would have riven a rock asunder. Also he had the advantage of his threefold form. Three pairs of hands he had, and he could shift his weapon from one to the other as occasion served. So crafty was he and so nimble, that an adversary scarce could know where and when he should defend himself. But the prince was his match and more. Ever he watched the motion of his hands, and parried the blow wherever it might fall. And the tyrant, being thus baffled again and again, roared for very rage, till, at the last, gathering up all the strength of the three bodies into one stroke, he thought to fell his adversary to the ground. What had happened had the stroke come upon the man none can say, but it lighted on the horse and brought him to the ground. So now the prince was constrained to fight on foot, and the giant laughed aloud to think that he had him at a disadvantage. But the fortune of the fight went not so. Now this arm and now that did the prince shear away with his good sword, and he himself was sheltered safe under his shield; so faultless was its temper, that no blow could shatter it. And ever the giant was more and more carried away by his rage, till, at the last, offering his whole side to the attack of the prince, he was brought to the ground a corpse, nay, three corpses, for all were smitten to death by the one stroke, and lay a bloody heap upon the plain.

All this while the Lady Belgé watched the fortunes of the fight from the city wall, with her two sons standing on either hand. And when she saw the issue she hastened to greet him; the people of the city also, who had waited to see to whom the victory should fall, hastened to do him homage. Right glad were they to be rid of the giant’s tyranny.

When the Lady Belgé had rendered the prince her thanks, which he received with due modesty—“’Tis not the strength nor courage of the doer,” said he, “but the justice of his deed that should be looked to”—she said: “O noble sir, you have freed me from my chief foe; nevertheless there remains yet something to be done. I pray you not to stay your victorious arms till you have rooted out all that remains of this vile brood, and established my peace for ever.”

“Tell me, lady,” he answered, “what is this that remains?”

“Sir,” she answered, “in this temple hard by there is, as you have heard, a monstrous idol which this tyrant set up, and to which he offered up sacrifices, taking, alas! of my dear children, and many children also of this people. Now in a cavern underneath this idol there lies a most hideous monster, which is wont to feed upon the flesh of these sacrifices. No man, they say, has ever looked upon its shape, so fearful is it, and lived.”

When the prince heard this he was occupied with a great desire to deal with this same monster, and demanded that the queen should show him the place where it abode. “It is beneath the altar,” said she; and he uncovered his shield, for the need was such as to demand the help. The idol he saw, but not the monster. Then he took his sword, and with the naked blade he struck three times, as if in defiance, and at the third time the monster came from out its hiding-place. Hideous it was to see, huge of size, as long, it seemed, as the whole chapel, with the face of a woman and the body of a dog; its claws were like to lion’s claws; it had a tail with a deadly sting, and eagle’s wings. Nevertheless, for all its strength, it was dismayed to see the knight, and especially the burning brightness of his shield. It would have fled again to its hiding-place, but that the prince would not suffer. Seeing, then, that it had to fight, the monster flew at the prince’s shield, and caught it with its claws, purposing either to break it, or, if that might not be, to wrench it out of his hands. Long did they struggle together, but at the last the prince, with a stroke of his sword, shore off the monster’s claws. Exceeding loud was the bellowing which it made, seeming to make the whole chapel rock to its foundations. Next it struck at the prince with its great tail, and well-nigh brought him to the ground; but before it could strike a second blow, he had severed the last joint with his sword. Last of all, it raised itself on its great wings and flew at his head; doubtless it had hurt him sore but that he held his shield between. While he so warded off the attack, he struck full at the monster’s belly, and so did it to death.

Great was the rejoicing in the city when the people knew that the creature which had oppressed them so long was slain. They crowned the prince with bays, and led him through the streets with solemn pomp. After this he tarried awhile in the city, establishing Queen Belgé on her throne, and setting all things in due order, till the time came when he had to depart for the completing of his task.