So he put his spear to rest, and charged, and the stranger did likewise. They met full and fair; Sir Guyon’s spear, so fast and furious was the onset, was like to pierce the stranger’s shield, but this it did not avail to do, nor did it drive the stranger from his seat: nevertheless he was somewhat shaken. On the other hand, Sir Guyon himself was carried back, ere he was aware, nigh upon a spear’s length behind the crupper of his saddle, yet without hurt to life or limb. Nevertheless his anger was great, for never since the day when he first bore arms as a knight had he been dismounted in such fashion. And indeed, if he had known the whole truth of the matter, his anger had been both less and greater; less because the spear by which he had been overthrown was of the magic sort, and greater, because the knight by whom he had been overthrown was no man, but a maid, even the famous Britomart. Full of rage he was and hot to do away his disgrace, as leaping from the ground he drew his sword. And now the pilgrim in great haste came between the knight and his purpose, for being a holy man and wise, he perceived that there was some marvellous power in that same spear-point. This indeed he did not disclose, for it was not lawful so to do, but he made other pretence: “Nay, Sir Knight, it were ill advised to seek amends with your sword for the mischance of your spear. If haply your steed swerved somewhat to the side, or your page was somewhat careless in the ordering of your equipage, why should you be so carried away by wrath; for, remember, you have no quarrel with this knight.”
With such prudent counsels did the pilgrim pacify Sir Guyon’s wrath. Thus concord was made between the two, in which the prince also was joined.
When they had journeyed awhile Prince Arthur and Sir Guyon set off on an adventure of their own, to rescue some fair lady in distress. But Britomart, finding that they two would suffice for that enterprise, on which her own mind was in nowise set, rode on without company until she came to a fair castle, with a meadow before the gate, on which she saw six knights setting upon one. He was not a little pressed by such odds, yet in nowise dismayed. Indeed, the six dared not to stand up against him face to face, so shrewd were the blows which he dealt them, but sought to take him at a disadvantage from behind. Britomart endured not to see such knavish work, but setting spurs to her horse and crying aloud, “Have done with such foul tricks,” made all haste to help. And when they ceased awhile from the attack, she said to the single knight: “How comes it, sir, that you do battle in such fashion and at such odds?”