Arcadia

We rode down from the high palace early in the morning, eager to make the most of the splendid weather. Come to think of it, when wasn’t the weather splendid in Arcadia?

I wore my most fashionable outfit; cerise doublet with peacock feather hat, parti-coloured hose and my largest cod-piece. I rode my favourite horse, Hercules, a proud and noble beast from the most famous stables in the kingdom, bred for me especially.

My young friends rode beside me, laughing and chatting gaily. We told each other stories of the many adventures we had had on other hunts. How once, we had startled a satyr and a nymph in an olive grove in the foothills of Mount Pelion. And the time we drank with Dionysus himself (at least, we thought it was Dionysus—we were very drunk).

In the wood, all manner of game presented itself to our crossbows and we made good sport upon it. As befitting a prince, I felled the great white hart, king of the forest.

Afterwards, our consorts arrived with the servants at the glade where we rested, and brought with them hampers of Ambrosian foods, sweetmeats and rich wines. The ladies served us as we lay upon the fragrant grass in the shade of a large willow tree and, after drinking deep of the heady wines of youth, we began to feel drowsy, and Somnus took up each of us into his arms and we slept.

***

A disturbing dream came upon me, and although I had never experienced it before, through some trick of the mind I recognised many of the things shown to me as though they were memories.

I seemed to awake, but instead of the branches of the willow tree above me, white stone. A single glowing globe cast its light around through some arcane wizardry, making it brighter than the brightest candle.

Although the memories are beginning to fade now, I recall I was floating on my back. I raised my head and looked down at myself. Horrified, I saw that I was naked, and my body was thin, and bones showed through at the hips and ribs. Coarse black hairs grew from my arms and legs. There were blemishes and carbuncles where I was accustomed to seeing only smooth brown flesh.

I tried to raise my head further. On the opposite wall of this evil cell, were words, but I knew not their import, for it was unreadable.

I had a strong urge to flee from this nightmare and I struggled to free myself from the encumbrances that held me down. Unlike my waking life, my struggles were weak and pathetic and my arms and legs moved only slightly—as is the way in dreams.

A robed figure appeared at my side. Its face was veiled, but the eyes looked upon me and I saw kindness and pity there.

“Hold on there, Pops,” the figure said. “Go back to sleep.”

The voice sounded somewhere between a man’s and a woman’s. It had a low flutey quality to it and was most soothing. The figure reached beyond my head and concerned itself with something behind me of which I could see nothing, but immediately, the image began to fade.

In that moment, I remembered something important about myself, but alas, before I could hold the thought in my mind, I was gone away. That ghost of a thought haunts me still today.

***

My friends said I awoke screaming. They gathered around me with concern and called for a litter to take me back to the high palace as I was unable to ride Hercules. I lay in bed all the next day, haunted by the memory of that dreadful place and of the figure who I now recognised as my guardian spirit.

Sleep did not find me for many days after my experience but, with the distance of time, the dream has faded into unresolved impressions, like a blot of ink on wet paper. I cannot be sure that even the account I give here is entirely accurate, or whether my mind has embellished it.

I do know, I never want to have that dream again in this life.

END