CHAPTER XI

OF SIR GUYON AND THE LADY MEDINA

Archimage did not suffer long from his overthrow by Sansloy, for he had devices at his command by which he could recover himself from all sicknesses, howsoever sore they might be. And, being recovered, he set himself to do some hurt to the Red-Cross Knight, who, by this time, had bidden farewell to the Lady Una, and was journeying to render service to Queen Gloriana.

As he was travelling with this purpose in his heart, he came upon a very noble knight, clad in armour from top to toe, who was riding slowly along the road, reigning back his horse’s pace to suit the steps of a venerable pilgrim, who journeyed by his side. Archimage laid his hand upon the neck of the knight’s horse and said: “Sir Knight, I pray you to help one who is sadly in need of succour for himself and for another, of whom he is in charge.” And while he spoke he made great pretence of fear and trouble, trembling and weeping.

“Speak on,” answered Sir Guyon, for this was the knight’s name. “Speak on, and I will not fail to help you, and the other of whom you speak.”

“Oh, sir,” said Archimage, “I am a squire, and I have a lady in charge to deliver her to her parents, but there is a certain evil-minded Knight who hinders me. I know not what I shall do, and she goes in deadly fear that some great harm will happen to her.”

“And where is the lady?” asked Sir Guyon.

“Come, sir,” the false squire made answer, “and I will bring you to her.” So the two went together, and found a lady sitting under a tree, weeping sore, with her garments all dishevelled and torn.

“Fair lady,” said Sir Guyon, “it troubles me much to see you in this plight. But take heart; I will surely call him who has done you any wrong to strict account. But let me hear your complaint.”

So she told him her tale. And when she had ended he said: “But who is this man; by what name or by what signs shall I know him?”

“His name,” said she, “I know not; but this I know, that he rode upon a steed of dappled grey, and that he carried a shield of silver with a red cross upon it.”

“Now by my head,” cried Sir Guyon, “I know this same Knight, and I wonder such that he should have behaved so ill. He is a good Knight and a true, and, I hear, has won great renown in the cause of a fair lady. I was myself present in the Queen’s court when he took this task upon himself, which he has now performed with great honour. Nevertheless, I will try him in this matter, and he must needs either show that he is free from blame, or make due amends.”

Now she that made all this show of grief was the false Duessa, and Archimage had found her wandering in miserable plight after Prince Arthur had dealt with her as has been told above. And having found her, he decked her out with robes and ornaments, and made her to appear passing fair, such arts he had. This he did because she helped him much when he would tempt a knight into evil ways.

“And now, squire,” said Sir Guyon, “can you lead me to the place where the Knight of whom you make this complaint may be found?”

“That can I,” said Archimage; and he led him to a shady valley hard by, in the midst of which was a stream both clear and cold, and on the bank of the stream sat a knight with his helmet unlaced, who drank of the water as one who was resting after a long journey. “Sir,” said Archimage, “yonder is the evil Knight; he would fain hide himself from the punishment of his deeds.”

Then Sir Guyon addressed himself to the fight, and the Red-Cross Knight likewise. But ere they encountered each other they stayed their hands: “Pardon me, fair sir, that I had well-nigh set my spear against the sacred badge which you bear upon your shield.”

“And I, too,” answered the Red-Cross Knight, “would likewise crave pardon for like violence to that fair image of a maiden which is your device.”

Then they held converse together. Sir Guyon told his tale, but when he had ended it he looked, and lo! the false squire, the deceiver Archimage, had fled, knowing that his device had come to naught. And now the pilgrim that bore Sir Guyon company came up, and when he saw the Red-Cross Knight, he said: “Fair son, God give you praise and peace for ever. You indeed have won your place; but ours is yet to win.”

“His be the praise,” answered the Red-Cross Knight, “by whose grace I am what I am.” So they parted with much courtesy, going each his several way.

After a while they came to a fair castle by the sea where the Lady Medina had her dwelling, Sir Guyon toiling painfully on foot, because, when he was helping an unhappy traveller, a knave had stolen away his horse. This Lady Medina was one of three sisters, and of the three Elissa was the eldest and Perissa the youngest. These two were always at variance, not a little with Medina, but still more with each other, and she being always of an equal mind, and wise conduct, had the chief authority in the place, though, indeed, their father had left it to the three in equal shares. Elissa had for lover a certain Sir Hudibras, a famous knight, but in deeds scarce equal to his high repute. He had a most mighty body and sturdy limbs, but his wit was small. Perissa’s knight was Sansloy, of whom mention has already been made. Never was man more reckless, indeed, more careless of right and wrong. So soon as these two heard that a stranger knight was come to the castle, then they issued forth to fight with him, their ladies following; yet such was their folly that even on the way they fell out and joined in deadly fray, to the great disturbance of the house. Much did Sir Guyon marvel as, entering the hall, he saw the fray.

“This,” said he to himself, “must have an end,” and, carrying his shield on his left arm and with his right hand unsheathing his sword, he ran in between the two. They with one consent turned their arms against him, just as a bear and tiger in the desert plains of Africa, when some traveller comes in sight, leave their strife and fall upon him with one mind. It was a strange fight indeed, and Sir Guyon had fared ill, but for his surpassing strength and courage, and even these might have failed him in a conflict so unequal, but that the Lady Medina, hearing in her bower of what had befallen, ran forth, with bare bosom and dishevelled hair, and fell on her knees and besought them to abate their strife: “Now, my lords!” she cried, “by the mothers that bare you, and by the love that you have for your fair ladies, and by the knighthood to which you owe your homage, I beseech you to put away this fury and to be at peace among yourselves.” So she besought them, and though the two sisters stood by, not helping a whit, but rather stirring up each her champion to fiercer wrath, she prevailed. The knights let fall their swords, and bowed their heads before her, and vowed to do her bidding. Then she, fearing that their resolve might be unstable, bound them by a treaty, which they, on their part, swore, on their knightly honour, that they would keep for all time to come.

This done she bade them all, both knights and ladies, to a fair banquet. And when they had had enough of meat and drink, she said: “Tell us, Sir Knight, on what errand you are come and what end you seek.”

Then said Sir Guyon: “What you ask brings to my mind that great Queen, fairest and best of all that are in the wide world. She is wont to make a great feast on the first day of the New Year, to which come all knights that seek adventure and desire to gain honour for themselves. At this feast, at the beginning of the self-same year, I was present; and it came to pass that this pilgrim whom you have bidden with me to your feast, stood forth before the Queen, and made his complaint of a certain wicked fairy that wasted the land wherein he dwelt, and wrought great damage to its inhabitants. And when he had ended the Queen set this task to me, unworthy as I am. Nor did I refuse to take it in hand. Now the name of this wicked fairy is Acrasia. Three times has the moon waxed and waned since that day, and I have already seen full proofs of the mischief which she works. To subdue her, therefore, and to bring her captive into the presence of Queen Gloriana is the purpose which I set before myself.”

Then, the night being now far spent, all the guests betook themselves to sleep.