CHAPTER XXXVII

SIR CALEPINE AND THE LADY SERENA

As Sir Calidore passed on his way he came upon two lovers, Sir Calepine and the Lady Serena, as they sat talking together. They were abashed to see him, and he, being the very soul of courtesy, made most humble apology for so disturbing them. Then said Sir Calepine: “Sit down and rest awhile, and let us talk together;” to which Sir Calidore courteously assented. While they talked, the Lady Serena, tempted by the fairness of the place, and seeking to make a garland of flowers, of which there was great store, wandered away.

Thereupon the Blatant Beast, the same monster which Sir Calidore had it in charge to seek, rushed out of a wood that was hard by, caught her in his mouth, and carried her away. She cried aloud to the two knights for help, and they, hearing her voice, started up to succour her. Sir Calidore, being the more swift of foot of the two, overtook the beast before it had gone far. Thereupon it cast down the lady out of its mouth and fled. Nor did Sir Calidore delay to pursue the beast. “The lady,” said he to himself, “will be cared for by her own knight; but as for me, I must not abandon my quest.” How he fared in the pursuit will be told hereafter; but we will follow in the meanwhile the fortunes of the two lovers.

Sir Calepine found the lady in very sad plight, being sorely wounded on both sides by the monster’s teeth, so that she lay upon the ground in a swoon, as if she were dead. With much ado he brought her back to life, and, setting her on his horse, held her up with his arms, till they could find some place where she might rest and be healed of her wounds. So they journeyed till they came to a river, on the other side of which stood a fair castle, in which he hoped that he might find shelter. But when he came to the water’s edge he found that the stream could scarce be forded on foot. While he doubted what it were best to do, there came a knight to the river’s side, with a lady riding on a palfrey by his side. Thereupon Sir Calepine, with all due courtesy, made a request of the new-comer, that he would take this wounded lady to the other side.

“Not so,” replied the other; “if you have no horse of your own you shall have no help of mine. Go on foot, and let this lady do the same. Or, if you like it better, carry her on your back, and so prove yourself a man.”

The lady on the palfrey was much displeased at the rudeness of this speech, and, pitying the plight of Serena, would have helped her with her own palfrey. For this courtesy Sir Calepine thanked her, but, being very angry with the knight, would have none of her help. Stepping down, therefore, into the river, he held himself up against the stream with his spear in one hand, and with the other hand stayed the lady on his horse. All the while the discourteous knight stood on the bank jeering and laughing.

When Sir Calepine had won in safety to the farther bank, he called aloud to the other, saying, “Unknightly man, disgrace to all who bear arms, I defy you. Fight if you dare, or never be bold to bear arms again.” But the fellow took no heed of this challenge, but laughed aloud, as if to say that his adversary was of so mean estate that a man of honour need not trouble to regard his words. So, crossing the stream, he came to the fair house on the farther bank, for indeed this was his house.

To this same house came Sir Calepine, for indeed there was no other house where he could find shelter, and asked admittance for the lady’s sake. But the porter said: “We find no lodging here for any wandering knight, unless he is willing first to fight with the master of the house.”

“And who is he?” said Sir Calepine.

“His name,” answered the porter, “is Sir Turpin; a mighty man and a great fighter; he bears a great grudge against all wandering knights, by reason of some wrong that was done him by such a knight in time past.”

Then said Sir Calepine: “Go your way to your master, and tell him that a wandering knight craves shelter for a wounded lady, and that he is willing to fight, but craves that Sir Turpin will, of his courtesy, postpone this issue till the day following.” To this request no answer other than had first been delivered was made, and Sir Calepine perforce turned away, not knowing what else he could do. All that night he sheltered the lady under a bush as best he could. The next day he went on his way, hoping to find some more hospitable place, and walking as before by the lady’s side.

But he was not suffered to proceed far; for Sir Turpin, filled with hatred and malice, pursued after him and overtook him, and having him at a disadvantage, for he had the charge of the lady on his hands, went near to slaying him. Slain without doubt he had been, but for help that came to him beyond all hope. A savage man, who dwelt in the wood, hearing the lady’s cry, hastened to discover what had befallen. He was as a brute beast, and had never before felt in his breast any touch of pity; but now, seeing the knight so hardly pressed, was moved to help him. Neither armour had he nor arms, being wont to strike with such things as came to his hand, and for protection he had a magic charm, which from his birth had made him proof against all wounds. He took no thought how he could best attack Sir Turpin, but ran at him with great fury. The knight struck him full upon the breast with his spear, but made no wound. And when the wild man’s fury grew greater and greater, and he caught hold of the knight’s shield, and the knight on the other hand perceived that neither spear nor sword availed anything against him, then Sir Turpin left his shield and his spear also and fled. Nor had he then escaped but for the fleetness of his steed, for the savage also was the fastest of runners. So near did he come that Sir Turpin shrieked aloud for fear, a most unbecoming thing for a knight to do; nevertheless, by the speed of his horse he escaped to his castle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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