OF QUEEN ACRASIA
All day the two journeyed together with much sweet converse, and, when
it was evening, they came to a fair castle, of which the gate was fast
barred. So the Prince bade his squire wind his horn under the castle
wall, which thing he did with such a will, that a watchman straightway
looked forth from an upper storey; but the gate was barred as before.
“What want you, strangers?” he asked.
“We seek shelter for the night,” answered the squire.
“Fly,” cried the man, “fly, my friends, for your lives. Willingly would
I give you shelter, but this is no safe abiding place, so closely and
fiercely do our enemies assail us. Truly many knights, coming as you
have come this day, have perished miserably.” And while he was speaking
a thousand villainous creatures swarmed up from all the rocks and caves
about, armed in the strangest fashion, some with pikes, and some with
clubs, and some with stakes hardened in the fire. Fiercely they rushed
at the knights and their company, and for a while drove them back by
mere force of numbers. But soon they were forced to fly, and though they
came again and again, yet before the night fell they departed and left
the travellers in peace. And now the castle gate was opened wide, and
the lady of the place, Alma by name, coming to the door with a fair
company of knights and dames, bade them welcome. Then she showed them
her castle, which was marvellously well-ordered in all its parts. There
was a noble hall in which the guests—and there was already gathered a
goodly company of knights and ladies—were entertained; and a library
where there was a great store of goodly books, and all other things
which the heart of man could desire.
On the morrow, Sir Guyon and his guide set forth again, but Prince
Arthur tarried behind, desiring to help the Lady Alma against the
enemies who sought to take her castle. And this he did in such a fashion
that she was troubled no more with them. Yet of his great deeds I will
not further speak, being rather concerned with the doings of Sir Guyon,
who was indeed now come to the accomplishment of his task.
First they came to a great water, where there was a ferry-boat ready
prepared for their coming. In this they embarked and set forth, a stout
ferryman being at hand to manage the craft. Two days they sailed and saw
no land; but on the third day, as the light began to dawn in the East,
they heard the sound of a great roaring. Now the pilgrim held the tiller
and steered the craft. To him said the ferryman: “Pilgrim, steer an even
course; there is a dangerous place which we must pass across,—on the one
side is a great whirlpool, and a ship that comes too near it is sure to
sink, and on the other a great rock of magnet, which, if we keep not a
due distance, will draw us to itself. Steer then so that we may not fall
into this danger or into that.”
Right skilfully did the pilgrim steer, and great was the need. The
whirlpool, indeed, showed no sign of what had happened there before, for
all was swallowed up in its depths; but on the rock they saw the ribs of
ships which had been broken upon it, and the bones of men lying in its
clefts. And birds of prey, mews and cormorants and the like, sat
watching for such spoils as should come. Right willingly did they pass
from that place of death. And when the ferryman, plying his oars with
sturdy strength, had rowed awhile, Sir Guyon cried, pointing with his
hand: “I see land yonder; steer thereto, good sir.”
“Nay,” said the ferryman, “it is not so. That is no land which you see,
but what men call the Wandering Islands. Many men have come to their
deaths through them. They seem firm ground, fairly grown with trees and
grass and flowers; but let a man once set his foot upon them, he can
never recover it again.”
So they journeyed on in a straight course, and in so doing came to one
of these islands, whereon they espied a fair lady sitting. On the rock
she sat, and she had a little boat hard by. “Come hither, my friends,”
she said. “I have somewhat here which I would show you, and which you
would willingly see.”
But Sir Guyon said: “Nay, nay. We are otherwise minded; this is the Lady
of the Lake who caused me to be parted from my guide.” So they passed
on, and took no heed. But when, after a while, they passed hard by
another island, on which sat a maiden in sore distress, as it seemed,
Sir Guyon’s heart was moved; for was it not a good knight’s part to
succour ladies in distress? “Steer thither,” he cried.
“Not so. This damsel in distress is but a show; no damsel she, but some
ill creature ready to devour any that she may deceive.” So they passed
on, nor did they halt when, passing by a pleasant bay, they heard a
sound of sweet singing.
“O Guyon,” such was the song which they heard, “flower of chivalry, most
famous of all knights upon earth, turn thy bark hither, and rest
awhile.”
“Listen not,” said the pilgrim, “they do but seek to lure you to your
death.”
These things past, they came to the place for which they were bound. And
the pilgrim said: “This, Sir Knight, is the place where you must contend
for the mastery. Take your arms, and make yourself ready, for the hour
of trial is at hand.”
And now the ferryman drove the boat upon the shore, and Sir Guyon and
his guide stepped out upon the sand. Straightway they heard a hideous
bellowing as of savage beasts, and soon the beasts themselves came in
view, threatening as if they would devour them. But no sooner did the
pilgrim hold out his staff than they ceased their roaring, and humbled
themselves to the ground. And now they came to the Bower of Bliss, a
place most daintily adorned with all that could please the eye. The
porch by which they entered was of ivory cunningly adorned with carved
work, in which was told the story of Jason and Medea; how he sailed in
the good ship _Argo_, and how he won the love of the king’s daughter,
and how she helped him to win the fleece of gold from the dragon which
guarded it, and how she fled with him over the sea. And when they had
passed through the porch they came to a very fair meadow, adorned with
the fairest trees and flowers. And the meadow being passed they came to
another gate, where there sat a comely damsel, who pressed the clusters
of a vine which hung above her head into a cup. This cup she proffered
to the knight, and he, suspecting evil in all that seemed most fair and
pleasant, took it from her hand, and threw it violently on the ground,
so that it was broken into many pieces, and all the liquor was spilt.
[Illustration: Sir Guyon and the Men in Bestial Shapes.]
Many other tempting sights did they see, and all the knight passed by
unscathed, the pilgrim not ceasing on occasion to give counsel and
warning. So at last they came to the most sacred place of the Bower,
where the queen herself, Acrasia by name, had her abode. Fair she was
beyond all words and daintily arrayed, and at her feet there lay a
goodly knight asleep. He was of goodly aspect, just come to the years of
manhood, with the down newly sprung upon his cheeks and his lips. His
arms hung idly on a tree hard by, but his shield was without an emblem,
as if he had put away the purpose of his life.
Sir Guyon and the pilgrim drew near, none seeming to heed them, so
occupied were they with the pleasures of the place. And then the pilgrim
threw over the queen and the knight a net which he had cunningly
prepared for that same purpose. Fast did it hold them for all their
struggles, neither force nor art could avail them, though they strove
with all their might. The queen being thus captured, they bound her with
chains of adamant, for nothing else could hold her safely; but the
knight they soon set free, for he was of a noble nature, though it was
much decayed by evil ways, and he was willing to take to himself good
advice and counsel. And the beauty and glory of the Bower did they
deface and spoil, the goodly carvings they broke in pieces, and cut down
the pleasant groves. As for the beasts, when the pilgrim raised his
staff over them, they left their bestial shapes and came back to their
own, for, indeed, they were men whom this same evil queen had changed to
the forms and thoughts of beasts. So did Sir Guyon perform the command
of Queen Gloriana.