After his victory over Falsehood, the Red Cross Knight again mounted his
steed, and he and the Lady Una went on their way. Keeping carefully to
one path, and turning neither to the right hand nor the left, at last
they found themselves safely out of the Wood of Error.
But now they were to fall into the power of a more dangerous and
treacherous foe than even the hateful monster, Falsehood.
They had travelled a long way, and met with no fresh adventure, when at
last they chanced to meet in the road an old man. He looked very wise
and good. He was dressed in a long black gown, like a hermit, and had
bare feet and a grey beard; he had a book hanging from his belt, as was
the custom with scholars in those days. He seemed very quiet and sad,
and kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and all the time, as he went
along, he seemed to be saying prayers, and lamenting over his own
wickedness.
[Illustration: An old bearded hermit standing on a path as a knight and
woman approach.]
When he saw the travellers he made a very humble salute to them. The Red
Cross Knight returned the greeting with all courtesy, and asked him if
he knew of any strange adventures that were then taking place.
“Ah, my dear son!” said the hermit, “how should a simple old man, who
lives in a lonely cell, and does nothing all day but sorrow for his own
faults—how should such a man know any tidings of war or worldly trouble?
It is not fitting for me to meddle with such matters. But, if indeed you
desire to hear about danger and evil near at hand, I can tell you about
a strange man who wastes all the surrounding country.”
“That,” said the Knight, “is what I chiefly ask about, and I will reward
you well if you will guide me to the place where he dwells. For it is a
disgrace to knighthood that such a creature should be allowed to live so
long.”
“His dwelling is far away from here, in the midst of a barren
wilderness,” answered the old man. “No living person may ever pass it
without great danger and difficulty.”
“Now,” said the Lady Una, “night is drawing near, and I know well that
you are wearied with your former fight. Therefore, take rest, and with
the new day begin new work.”
“You have been well advised, Sir Knight,” said the old man. “Day is now
spent; therefore take up your abode with me for this night.”
The travellers were well content to do this, so they went with the
apparently good old man to his home.
It was a little lowly hermitage, down in a dale by the side of a forest,
far from the beaten track of travellers. A small chapel was built near,
and close by a crystal stream gently welled forth from a never-failing
fountain.
Arrived at the house, they neither expected nor found any entertainment;
but rest was what they chiefly needed, and they were well satisfied, for
the noblest mind is always the best contented. The old man had a good
store of pleasing words, and knew well how to fit his talk to suit his
visitors. The evening passed pleasantly, and then the hermit conducted
his guests to the lodgings where they were to spend the night.
But when they were safely asleep a horrid change came over the old man,
for in reality he was not good at all, although he pretended to be so.
His heart was full of hatred, malice, and deceit. He called himself
Archimago, which means a “Great Magician,” but his real name was
_Hypocrisy_. He knew that as long as Holiness and Truth kept together,
no great harm could come to either of them; so he determined to do
everything in his power to separate them. For this purpose he got out
all his books of magic, and set to work to devise cunning schemes and
spells. He was so clever and wily that he could deceive people much
better and wiser than himself. He also had at his bidding many bad
little spirits, who ran about and did his messages; these he used to
help his friends and frighten his enemies, and he had the power of
making them take any shape he wished.
Choosing out two of the worst of these, he sent one on a message to King
Morpheus, who rules over the Land of Sleep. He bade him bring back with
him a bad, false dream, which Archimago then carried to the sleeping
Knight. So cunningly did he contrive the matter, that when the Knight
awoke the next morning he never knew that it had only been a dream, but
believed that all the things he had seen in his sleep had really
happened.
In the meanwhile, Archimago dressed up the other bad spirit to look like
Una, so that at a little distance it was impossible to tell any
difference in the two figures. He knew that the only way to part
Holiness and Truth was to make Holiness believe by some means that Truth
was not as good as she appeared to be. He knew also that the Red Cross
Knight would believe nothing against the Lady Una except what he saw
with his own eyes. Therefore he laid his plans with the greatest care
and guile.
Now we shall see how he succeeded in his wicked endeavour.