From Winchester
he rode in great haste, succouring not a few distressed damsels and
performing many other notable exploits by the way, "until he came to a
vast desert," "frequented by none save those whom ill fortune had
permitted to wander therein." Sir Tarquin, like the dragon of yore,
entailed a desert round his dwelling: so fierce and rapacious was he
that no man durst live beside him, save that he held his life and
property of too mean account, and too worthless for the taking.
The knight was pricking on his way through this almost pathless
wilderness, when he espied a damsel of such inexpressible and ravishing
beauty that none might behold her without the most heart-stirring
delight and admiration. To this maiden did Sir Lancelot address himself,
but she hid her face and fell a-weeping. He then inquired the cause of
her dolour, when she bade him flee, for his life was in great jeopardy.
"Oh, Sir Knight!" uncovering her face as she spoke, "the giant Tarquin
liveth hereabout, and thou wert as good as dead should he espy thee so
near his castle."
"What!" said the knight, "and shall Sir Lancelot of the Lake flee before
this false and cruel tyrant? To this purpose am I come, that I may slay
and make an end of him at once, and deliver the captives.
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