kind of evil might befall her. At length, tired out with their own curses, they turned back, and on the way met one clad in armour as became a knight.
This was, however, no knight, but Archimago, the wicked enchanter, who, not content with having separated Una from her champion, sought to lead her into further distress. He stopped the old woman, and, describing Una, asked if she had seen any such lady. Thereupon Corceca's passion became renewed, and, crying and cursing, she declared she knew her but too well, and told him which way to take.
Before long, Archimago came where "Una travelled slow," her fierce guardian treading by her side. The sight of the lion alarmed the enchanter, and he turned aside, not daring to approach too near. Now Archimago had taken care to disguise himself as Una's own Red-cross knight. When, therefore, she recognized the well-known shield, she turned and rode towards him, and, as she approached more near, became assured in her own mind that this was indeed her lost lord. Hastening on, in much humility and with tears in her eyes, she exclaimed: "Ah! my long-lost lord, where have you been so long hidden from my sight?" The pretended knight replied "that his absence had been enforced in that a certain Archimago had sent him on an adventure, from which he had now returned successful, and ready henceforth to abide by her and defend her by land and sea." His words made Una very happy. In her new-found joy, she forgot the pains and toils she had encountered and journeyed on, discoursing happily of all that had befallen her.
They had not, however, travelled far when they saw an armed horseman riding towards them at full speed. Although his horse was covered with foam, the warrior kept spurring it from time to time, and looked as if he were breathing forth dread threats of vengeance on some unknown victim. On his shield his name Sansloy was written in red letters. Now, this Sansloy was a Saracen knight, and was brother of another knight named Sansfoy, but this brother had encountered the Red-cross knight shortly after he and Una left the Faerie Court, and had been slain by him. The moment, therefore, that Sansloy had seen the cross on Archimago's armour, he had determined to avenge his brother's death, and bore down thus fiercely on the enchanter and the lady. But Archimago had no mind to fight; he grew faint and fearful when he saw the warrior, and it was only when Una cheered him on that he ventured to couch his spear or put spurs to his horse. Sansloy showed no mercy, but came on with such force and fierceness that his spear went right through Archimago's shield and hurled his antagonist from his charger, so that he fell heavily to the ground, while the blood gushed from his wound. Immediately Sansloy leapt from his steed and hastened toward his prostrate foe exclaiming, "Lo! there the worthy meed of him who slew Sansfoy with bloody knife," and thereupon began to unlace Archimago's helmet, thinking to sever his head at one stroke. But Una saw his purport, and cried out, beseeching him to hold "that heavy hand," urging that surely Sansloy's revenge was enough when he saw his foe lie vanquished at his feet. To her piteous words the cruel Saracen paid no attention, but tore off the other's helmet, and would have given the fatal blow had he not perceived before him, instead of the Red-cross knight, the hoary head of Archimago the enchanter. He stayed his hand, and gazed on the old man in amazement, for he knew him well, and knew that, skilful as Archimago was in charms and magic, he was but little used to war.
"Why, Archimago," he exclaimed, "what do I see? What hard mishap is this?"
The enchanter answered him never a word, but lay in a trance, apparently dying, and Sansloy, who had no compassion in his soul, made no attempt to render him assistance.
He turned instead to Una, who, poor damsel, was in sore amazement to see that he whom she had believed her own true knight was the cruel enchanter who had caused all her distress. Her wonder soon changed into terror, for Sansloy proceeded to seize hold of her white veil and pluck her rudely from her steed and gaze boldly in her face. But now arose the lion, her fierce servant, and, full of kingly rage at seeing his lady thus maltreated, sprang upon the Saracen, and with sharp-rending claws strove to tear away his shield. But Sansloy was very strong and wary, and, redeeming the shield from the lion's paws, he drew his sword. Alas! the power of the wild beast was all too weak to withstand a foe armed at every point and so mighty in strength and in skill as Sansloy. Very soon the deadly steel pierced the lion's heart, and he roared aloud, and life forsook him. Una was left alone in the hands of a cruel warrior, bereft of hope, for her faithful guardian was slain. She knew not where to look for help, and indeed help seemed very far away.
The Saracen would listen to no entreaty, but lifted her on to his own steed and bore her off, while the lowly ass, who would not forsake his lady, followed as best he could. With piteous words, she wept and begged for freedom, but all in vain; her words only increased the hardness of her captor's heart.
After a time, Una found herself borne into a wild forest. Here the damsel's terror became extreme, and she cried aloud in her distress. She had no hope of succour, but succour came.
"Eternal providence, exceeding thought,
Where none appears, can make herself a way."
And a wondrous way in this case it proved.
Far off in the wood, a troop of Fauns and Satyrs, wild, untamed inhabitants of deepest forests, were dancing, whilst old Sylvanus, their god, lay sleeping. These, hearing Una's cry, left their sport, and, running towards the spot from which the cry had come, appeared suddenly on the scene.
They were a rude, misshapen, even frightful-looking crowd, and Sansloy, like the wicked knight that he was, seized with superstitious fears, took fright and fled. But, when the Satyrs beheld Una all alone, sad and desolate, her fair face stained with tears, they stood still before her, astonished at her beauty, and pitiful of her distress. And she, more amazed than they, began to fear and tremble afresh, for wild stories were told of the Satyrs and of their lawless deeds. And it seemed to her that a worse lot than ever before had now befallen her. So fearful was she that she dared neither speak nor move.
The wild people read Una's sorrow in her sad countenance, and, laying aside the rough, frowning looks they usually wore, began to grin and smile and bend their knees before her, trying thus to comfort her. Uncertain whether or not she dare trust herself to them, Una stood irresolute. They, as they watched her, were overcome by pity of her tender youth and wonder at her sovereign beauty, and prostrating themselves on the ground, kissed her feet and fawned upon her with their most kindly looks.
Then Una, guessing their hearts aright, gave herself up to their care, and, rising, went fearlessly among them. Glad as birds in the joyous spring-time, they led her forth dancing, shouting, singing, and strewing green branches before her. All the way they played on their merry pipes, until the woods rang with their echo; and, worshipping the lady as a queen, they crowned her with an olive garland and led her to Sylvanus, their god.
He had wondered at the sounds of rejoicing which had roused him from his sleep, but when, leaning on his cypress staff, he came forth from his bower and saw Una, he stood amazed and wondered not when his wood-born subjects fell prostrate before her.
And then came tree-nymphs and light-footed Naiads, flocking to see the new-comer. But when they saw how fair and good she was, sharp envy seized upon them, and they fled away lest the Satyrs, in their new-born reverence for Una, should scorn their ancient playmates.
So Una, thankful for the favour she found and the respect shown to her, remained a long time among this forest people, and rested from her weariness. In return for their hospitality, she tried to teach them something of truth, and to prevent their worship of herself, but it was in vain, for when they found they might not worship the lady, they turned to the milk-white ass, her lowly steed, and worshipped it in her stead.
One day there came to the forest a certain Sir Satyrane, a noble knight who had been born in these woods, and who was in the habit of revisiting them from time to time. Now, when he came unexpectedly on this fair lady sitting among the Satyrs and endeavouring to teach them true sacred lore, he wondered at her heavenly wisdom, the like of which he had never before seen in woman. And when he watched her courteous deeds and heard the story of her sad misfortunes,
