King Lisuarte of Great Britain was at table; the cloths were removed, and Galaor, Florestan and Agrayes were about him. These were among his foremost knights, but they grieved for the absence of their brother and kinsman, the incomparable Amadis of Gaul; he, for love and worship of the peerless Oriana, the King’s daughter, had long wandered about in disguise, performing such exploits as made the whole world ring with his renown. Sometime he was known as the Child of the Sea, later as the Knight of the Green Sword, and at this time he went by the name of Beltenebros, or the Fair Mystery. And among his deeds had been the slaying of King Abies of Ireland, whose limbs were as those of a giant, and who numbered among his allies many astonishing fierce giants.

Then there came a strange knight into the palace, all armed except his head and his hands, and with him two squires, and he carried in his hand a letter sealed with five seals, which on his knees he presented to the king, saying:

“Let this be read, and then I will say for what I am come.”

Lisuarte perceived that it was a letter of credence and bade him speak his errand.

Then said the knight: “King, I defy thee on the part of Famongomadan, the Giant of the Boiling Lake; Cartadaque, his nephew, giant of the Defended Mountain; Madanfabul, his marriage-brother, the giant of the Vermillion Tower; and for Quadragante, brother of King Abies of Ireland, and Arcalaus the Enchanter:

“They tell thee that thy death, and the death of all who call themselves thine is in their hands, for they are coming against thee on King Cildadan’s side. Howbeit, if thou wilt give thy daughter Oriana to Madasima, the fair daughter of Famongomadan, to be her damsel and servant, they will not injure thee, nor be thine enemies, but will give her in marriage when it is time, to Basogante, Madasima’s brother, who doth well deserve to be lord of her and thy land.

“Therefore, King, look to thy choice! Such peace or such war.”

Lisuarte smiled when he began to reply, as one who set at naught the defiance. “Knight,” said he, “better is a dangerous war than a dishonorable peace: a bad account should I render to Him who hath placed me in this high rank, if for lack of heart I should so shamefully debase it. Tell them I would rather choose war with them all the days of my life, and death in that war at last, than consent to the peace they offer. Tell me where I may send a knight to carry them this answer.”

“They may be found,” replied the embassador, “in the Boiling Lake, which is in the Isle of Mongaza.”

So it was done, and a knight of King Lisuarte’s carried them his reply defying them to the utmost.

Now Amadis was at a nunnery, being but barely recovered of severe wounds. He sent Enil, his squire for the time, to the next town to get arms made for him, a green shield with as many golden lions as it could hold, and to buy him a horse, and a sword and breastplate, the best he could find. For he purposed to ride to Millaflores to see Oriana, the lady of all his thoughts.

In twenty days all was ready, as he had ordered it; and at the end of that time arrived Durin, who brought word from her who was called the one without a peer. Then he walked apart with Durin, and heard the message of Oriana, and also how his brethren were to be in the battle against Cildadan and the giants, and of the defiance that Famongomadan had sent, and how he demanded Oriana to be serving-damsel to his daughter, till he should give her in marriage to his son. When he heard this, his flesh shook with exceeding anger, and he resolved in himself, so soon as he had seen his lady, to undertake no adventure till he had found Famongomadan, and fought with him a combat to the utterance for what he had dared propose.

That night Amadis, still going by the name of Beltenebros even to his companion, took leave of the nuns, and early the next day, armed in his green armor, he set forth, and Enil with him carrying his shield and helmet and lance. The day was clear, and he feeling himself in his strength and once more in arms, began to manage his horse so skilfully that Enil said to him:

“I know not, sir, what the strength of your heart may be, but I never saw a knight appear so well in arms.”

“The worth,” quoth Amadis, “lies in a good heart, not in a good appearance. Happy dole hath he whom God has gifted with both. You have judged the one, judge the other as you shall see it deserves when put to proof.”

Seven days they travelled without adventure, and Amadis, as he drew nearer, wore his helmet that he might not be known. On the eighth, as they were passing the foot of a mountain, they met a knight upon a large bay horse, so huge in stature that he appeared to be a giant, and two squires carrying his arms.

He cried out with a loud voice to Amadis: “Stop, sir knight, till you have told me what I want to know.”

Amadis looked at the stranger’s shield, and seeing there golden flowers in a field azure, he knew it was Don Quadragante, brother to King Abies of Ireland and his own deadly foe. Yet, remembering Famongomadan, he would willingly now have avoided battle; as also, because he was on his way to Oriana, and feared lest the great prowess of this knight should cause him some delay. Howbeit he stopt, and bade Enil give him his arms, if they were wanted.

“God protect you!” quoth Enil. “He looks to me more like a devil than a knight.”

“He is no devil,” said Amadis, “but a right good knight, of whom I have heard heretofore.”

By this time Quadragante was come up, and said to him: “Knight, you must tell me if you belong to the household of King Lisuarte.”

“Why ask you?”

“Because I have defied him and all his household, and kill all of them whom I meet.”

Amadis felt his anger rising, and replied: “You are one of those who hath challenged him?”

“I am; and I am he who will do to him and his all the evil in my power.”

“And who are you?”

“My name is Don Quadragante; and I am brother to that King Abies who was foully slain by an unknown knight of Lisuarte’s.”

“Certes, Don Quadragante, notwithstanding your high lineage and your great prowess in arms, this is great folly in you to defy the best king in the world. They who undertake more than they can effect are rather rash than hardy. I am not this king’s vassal, nor am I of his land, but for his goodness my heart is disposed to serve him, so that I may account myself among those whom you have defied; if you chuse battle with me, you may have it; if not, go your way.”

“I believe, knight,” said Quadragante, “you speak thus boldly because you know me so little; pray you, tell me your name.”

“They call me Beltenebros: you will know me by it no better than before, for it is a name of no renown; but, though I am of a far land, I have heard that you are seeking Amadis of Gaul, and, by what I hear of him, it is no loss to you that you cannot find him.”

“What!” quoth Quadragante. “Do you prize him, whom I hate so much, above me? Know that your death-hour is arrived. Take thy arms and defend thyself if thou canst.”

“I might do it with some doubt against others, but can have none in opposing thee, who art so full of pride and threats.”

Then they ran their course; both felt the shock: the horse of Amadis reeled, and he himself was wounded at the nipple of the breast. Quadragante was unhorsed and hurt in the ribs. He rose and ran at Amadis, who did not see him, for he was adjusting his helmet, and mortally stabbed his horse. Amadis leaped off and went against him sword in hand in great anger.

“There was no courage in this,” he cried. “Your own horse was strong enough to have finished the battle without this villainy.”

The blows fell as thick and loud as though ten knights had been in combat, for both put forth all their strength and skill, and the fight lasted from the hour of tierce till vespers; but then Quadragante, overcome with fatigue and with a blow that Amadis gave him on the helmet, fell down senseless.

Amadis took off his helmet to see if he were dead; the air revived him; he placed the sword-point at his face, saying:

“Remember thy soul, for thou art a dead man.”

“Ah, Beltenebros,” cried he, “for God’s sake let me live, for my soul’s sake.”

“Yield thyself vanquished then, and promise to fulfill what I command.”

“I will fulfill your will to save my life,” said Quadragante, “but there is no reason wherefore I should confess myself vanquished: he is not vanquished who in his defence hath shown no fear, doing his utmost till strength and breath fail him and he falls; but he who does not do what he could have done, for lack of heart.”

“You say well,” said Amadis, “and I like much what I have heard from you; give me your hand and your promise then.” And he called the squire to witness it:

“You shall go forthwith to the court of King Lisuarte, and remain there till Amadis arrives, and then you shall pardon him for the death of your brother, King Abies; for they by their own will fought in lists together, and such revenge, even among those of meaner degree, ought not to be pursued. However, you shall make null the defiance against King Lisuarte, and not take arms against those in his service.”

All this did Quadragante promise against his will and in the fear of death. He then ordered his squires to make a litter and remove him; and Amadis, mounting the bay horse of his antagonist, gave his arms to Enil and departed.

Four damsels, who were hawking with a merlin, had seen the battle, and they now came up and requested the unknown would go to their castle, where he should be honorably welcomed, for the good will which he had manifested to King Lisuarte. He thankfully accepted their hospitality, being sore wearied with the struggle, and accompanied them. They found no other wound than that upon his breast, which bled much; howbeit in three days he departed.

On the second day at noon, from a hill top he beheld the city of London, and, to the right thereof, the castle of Miraflores, where his lady Oriana then abode. Here he stood awhile, gazing and devising how he might despatch Enil.

Presently he was taunted by a company of knights to joust with them, and at last he rode against them and overthrew all ten, one after another.

Then came he, being athirst, to the Fountain of the Three Channels, and tarried there awhile, discoursing with some damsels who were on their way to the court, and determining to fix upon this as a meeting place with Enil after he had been to his lady.

While they were talking, there came along the road a waggon drawn by twelve palfreys, and on it were two dwarfs who drove. There were many knights in chains in the waggon, and their shields were hanging at the side, and many damsels and girls among them weeping and lamenting loudly.

Before it went a giant, so great that he was fearful to behold; he rode a huge black horse, and he was armed with plates of steel, and his helmet shone bright, and in his hand he had a boar spear, whose point was a full arm’s-length long. Behind the waggon was another giant, who appeared more huge and terrible than the first.

The damsels with Amadis seeing them were greatly terrified, and hid themselves among the trees. Presently the giant who rode foremost turned to the dwarfs and cried:

“I will cut you into a thousand pieces if you suffer these girls to shed their own blood, for I mean to do sacrifice with it to my God, whom I adore.”

When Amadis heard this he knew it was Famongomadan, for he had a custom to sacrifice damsels to an idol in the Boiling Lake, by whose advice and words he was guided in everything. At this time Amadis did not wish to encounter him, because he hoped shortly to be with Oriana, and also because his joust with the ten knights had wearied him; but he knew the knights in the waggon, and saw that Princess Leonoreta and her damsels were there, for Famongomadan, who always took his waggon with him to carry away all he could find, had seized them in their tents.

Immediately he mounted, and called to Enil for his arms. But Enil said:

“Let those devils pass by first.”

“Give me!” quoth Amadis. “I shall try God’s mercy before they pass, to see if I can redress this villainy.”

“O, sir,” cried the squire, “why have you so little compassion on your youth? If the best twenty knights of King Lisuarte’s court were here, they would not venture to attack them.”

“Care thou not for that,” replied his master. “If I let them pass without doing my best I should be unworthy to appear among gallant men: you shall behold my fortune.”

Enil gave him his arms, weeping, and Amadis then descended the sloping ground to meet them. He looked toward Miraflores as he went, and said:

“O Oriana, my lady, never did I attempt adventure confiding in my own courage, but in you: my gentle lady, assist me now, in this great need.”

He felt his full strength now, and all fear was gone, and he cried out to the dwarfs to stop.

When the foremost giant, Famongomadan, heard him, he came towards him with such rage that smoke came through the vizor of his helmet, and he shook his boar spear so forcefully that its ends almost met.

“Unhappy wretch!” cried he. “Who gave thee boldness enough to dare appear before me?”

“That Lord,” quoth Amadis, “whom thou hast offended, who will give me strength today to break thy pride.”

“Come on! Come on!” cried the giant. “And see if his power can protect thee from mine.”

Amadis fitted the lance under his arm, and ran against him full speed: he smote him below the waist with such exceeding force that the spear burst through the plates of steel, and ran through him, even so as to strike the saddle behind, that the girths broke and he fell with the saddle, the broken lance remaining in him. His boar spear had taken effect upon the horse of Amadis and mortally wounded him. The knight leaped off and drew his sword.

Famongomadan rose up so enraged that fire came from him, and he plucked the lance from his wound, and threw it at Amadis so violently that if the shield had not protected his helmet, it would have driven him to the ground; but his own bowels came out with the weapon, and he fell, crying:

“Help, Basagante! I am slain.”

At this the other giant came up as fast as his horse could carry him: he had a steel axe in his hand, and with this he thought to have cut his enemy in two; but Amadis avoided the blow, and at the same time struck the giant’s horse; the stroke fell short, but the tip of his sword cut through the stirrup-leather, and cut the leg also half through.

The giant in his fury did not feel the wound, though he missed the stirrup: he turned and raised his axe again. Amadis had taken the shield from his neck, and was holding it by the throngs: the axe fell on it and sank in and drove it from his hands to the ground. He had made another stroke; the sword wounded Basagante’s arm, and, glancing below upon the plates of fine steel, broke, so that only the handle remained in his hand.

Not for this was he a whit dismayed; he saw the giant could not pluck his axe from the shield, and he ran and caught it by the handle also. Both struggled for the weapon; it was on that side where the stirrup had been cut away, so that Basagante lost his balance: the horse started and he fell; and Amadis got the battle-axe.

The giant drew his sword in vast fury, and would have run at the knight, but the nerves of his leg were cut through; he fell upon one knee, and Amadis smote him on the helmet, that the laces burst and it fell off. He, seeing his enemy so near, thought with his sword, which was very long, to smite off his head; the blow was aimed too high, it cut off the whole crown of the helmet, and cut away the hair with it. Amadis drew back; the helmet fell over his head upon his shoulders, and Leonoreta and the damsels, who were on their knees in the waggon praying to God to deliver them, tore their hair and began to shriek and call upon the Virgin, thinking he was surely slain. He himself put up his hand to feel if he were wounded to death, but feeling no harm made again at the giant, whose sword falling upon a stone in the last blow had broken.

Basagante’s heart failed him now; he made one stroke more and cut the knight slightly in the leg with the broken sword; but Amadis let drive the battle-axe at his head: it cut away the ear and the cheek and the jaw, and Basagante fell, writhing in the agony of death.

At this time Famongomadan had taken off his helmet, and was holding his hands upon his wound to check the blood. When he saw his son slain he began to blaspheme God and His mother Holy Mary, saying that he did not so much grieve to die as that he could not now destroy their monasteries and churches, because they had suffered him and his son to be conquered by one knight.

Amadis was then upon his knees returning thanks to God when he heard the blasphemer, and he exclaimed:

“Accursed of God and of His blessed mother! Now shalt thou suffer for thy cruelties. Pray to thine idol that, as thou hast shed so much blood before him, he may stop this blood of thine from flowing out with thy life.”

The giant continued to curse God and his saints. Then Amadis plucked the boar spear from the horse’s body, and thrust it into the mouth of Famongomadan, and nailed him backward to the earth.

He then put on Basagante’s helmet that he might not be known, and mounting the other’s horse rode up to the waggon and broke the chains of all who were prisoners therein. And he besought them to take the bodies of the giants to King Lisuarte, and say they were sent him by a strange knight called Beltenebros; and he begged the princess to permit him to take the black horse of Famongomadan, because it was a strong and handsome horse, and he would ride him in the battle against King Cildadan.

The bodies of the giants were so huge that they were obliged to bend their knees to lay them in the waggon.

Leonoreta and her damsels made garlands for their heads, and being right joyful for their deliverance, entered London singing in triumph. Much was King Lisuarte astonished at their adventure, and the more for Quadragante had already presented himself on the part of Beltenebros, of whom nothing else was known.

“I would he were among us,” said the King. “I would not lose him for anything that he could ask and I could grant.”

As for the further exploits of Amadis; and how, by the side of his brethren and the king, he conquered all those island giants in pitched battle; and how he slew the unspeakable monstrous offspring of the giant of Devil’s Island that was called the Endriago; and how he and the peerless Oriana, in whom all beauty was centered, proved in the Firm Island those final adventures of the Arch of True Lovers and of the Forbidden Chamber;—are not these and many things beside written in the Portuguese chronicler’s tale of Amadis of Gaul? And was this not one of the only three romances spared by the good Curate when he purged Don Quixote’s library with fire—for that forsooth it was the best of all the romances?