You Don Galaor of Gaul, the strong and the brave, I Urganda, salute as him whom I esteem and love; know from me what must befall you in the dolorous battle, if you be there. After many cruelties and deaths that you will have witnessed in the last press, your strong body and stout limbs will fail your brave and ardent heart, and at the end your head will be in his power, who, with the three blows that he shall give, is to decide the day. Friend, quoth Lisuarte, if this say true, you will be slain if you enter the battle; I will so order that you may honourably decline it. Sir, said Galaor, it seems the advice I gave displeased you, that you would command me to my shame. God forbid that I should herein obey you. Don Galaor! you are right, the King answered, we will trust in God. Meantime say nothing of these letters lest our friends should be discouraged. Before they entered the town two Knights came up to be present in the battle, they were Don Bruneo of Bonamar, and Branfil his brother; and Bruneo grieved much that he had not arrived in time to prove the sword, for he had passed under the arch of Loyal Lovers, and by his love to Melicia doubted not that he should have won it. Him Galaor courteously saluted, and took to his lodging as a right worthy Knight. Presently Enil arrived with the head of Lindoraque hanging from the horse's breast-plate, and the hand and shield of Arcalaus. Then was the great prowess of Beltenebros more praised, and Galaor and Florestan more desirous, to prove in battle that he was not equal to their lost brother Amadis. At this time Filispinel returned who had been sent with the King's defiance to the giants; he brought word that they were gone to Ireland, and would in four days time land in the port of the plain where the battle was to be fought, and he brought with him this letter. To the great Lord Lisuarte, King of Great Britain, and to all our friends in his dominions. I Arban, a wretch, once King of North Wales, and I Angriote of Estravaus, inform you that our unhappy fortune hath thrown us into the power of the fierce Gromadaza, wife of Famongomadan, who, in vengeance for the death of her husband and her son, inflicts upon us such torments, that we wish for death to relieve us; but she will not kill us that she may lengthen our sufferings, the which are such, that we should have ridden ourselves of life, if it were not for losing our souls thereby; but being now near death, we write this letter with our blood, praying God to grant you the victory over these traitors, who, in such inhuman sort torment us. Great sorrow had the King hereat, and all his Knights; however he comforted them, assuring them that there was no other remedy, or way of helping their friends, than by conquering in this great battle: so they all prepared, and set forth for the place appointed. _CHAPTER 16._