“I am daughter of a king
Who rules in Aragon,
My messengers they bring
Me food to live upon.
My father thinks me dead;
My death he did ordain,
For that I would not wed
A wicked knight of Spain.
But those whom he did send
To kill me in this place,
My youth they did befriend,
But cruel is my case.”
“Is it even so,” said Pedro to himself, “that this lovely maiden is the
daughter of a king? If I render her assistance I may incur great danger,
and if I leave her to die it will be a crying shame; what, then, am I to
do?”
As he was thus pondering in his mind, he heard a flapping of wings, and,
looking in the direction whence the noise came, he saw a pair of
perfectly white pigeons bearing a small basket between them, strung on a
thin golden bar, which they held at each end between their beaks.
Descending, they deposited the basket by the side of the princess, who
caressed them most tenderly, and then took from the basket some
articles of food which she greedily ate (for she had not eaten since the
previous morning), and after having finished the contents she again
sang—
“I am daughter of a king,
Who thinks that I am dead;
Here on this beach I sing,
By pigeons I am fed.
Thank you, my pretty birds,
Who are so kind to me.
But what avail my words?
Oh, I a bird would be!”
This wish was no sooner uttered than Pedro, much to his astonishment,
saw that the lovely princess had been turned into a white swan, with a
small gold crown on the top of its head.
Expanding her wings, she gradually rose high above him, attended by the
pigeons, and all three flew out to sea; when suddenly Pedro observed a
magnificent ship not far from the coast, whose deck was of burnished
gold, and her sides of ivory fastened with golden nails. The ropes were
of thread of silver, and the sails of white silk, while the masts and
yards were made of the finest sandal-wood.
To the ship the three birds flew, and no sooner did they alight on the
deck than Pedro observed that they were three beautiful maidens.
The princess sat on a richly ornamented chair, and the other two maidens
on velvet cushions embroidered in gold at her feet.
Over them was spread a superb awning to shelter them from the rays of
the sun, and the vessel glided about over the vast expanse of water, now
in one direction, now in another, as if the breeze blew to suit the
sails.
Pedro was so astonished at what he saw that at last he got frightened,
and, being young and nimble, he soon lost sight of the ship; but at
every pace he seemed to hear a voice saying, “Run not away, future king
of Aragon!”
Pedro continued running till he left the beach far behind, and was now
in the pine-forest; nor did he stop till he was in the densest part,
when, for very fatigue, he threw himself on the ground, and then he
distinctly heard a voice say, “Pedro, you are destined to be King of
Aragon; but tell no one.”
Not till then had he discovered that he was no longer dressed in
fisherman’s attire, but that his clothes were of the finest cloth
fringed with gold lace.
Pedro, on seeing this, said, “I am enchanted. That princess is indeed a
mermaid, and has cast a spell over me. I am undone, my eyes deceive me,
and what I take for so much grandeur is but a deception.” Saying which,
he started to his feet, and hurried towards his village as fast as his
legs would carry him.
Arrived at the fishing hamlet, all his old companions paid him such
deference that he tried to get out of their way, thinking they did but
laugh at him, and, arriving at the door of his widowed mother’s cottage,
he ran into the kitchen. His mother happened to be frying some fish, and
when she saw a grand gentleman enter the apartment she took the pan off
the fire, and, bowing low, said, “My noble sir, this house is too humble
for such as you; allow me to conduct you to his reverence’s house, for
there you will find accommodation more suited to your high estate.”
Pedro would have replied to his mother, and sought to kiss her hand and
ask her blessing, after the custom of the country; but, on attempting to
speak, his tongue hung out of his mouth, and he made so strange a noise
and so gesticulated that his mother was glad to get out of the house,
followed, however, by her son and a large crowd of villagers who had
congregated to see the grand stranger.
As soon as it was known throughout the village of the arrival of the
grand stranger the church bells pealed, and the parish priest mingled
with the crowd desirous of seeing the new arrival; but as soon as Pedro
commenced gesticulating as before, the priest and all the rest of the
people were much frightened, for they thought that he was dangerously
mad.
Pedro, noticing this, sorrowfully turned away from his native village
and took the high-road to the next town.
As he was going along, thinking of his present trouble, he observed a
wide gate made of gold, opening into a beautiful garden, into which he
hesitated not to enter; for he recollected what the wise woman of the
village had once told him—that “grand clothes beget respect.”
“Open wide those gates, O worker midst the flowers,” exclaimed Pedro to
an old gardener (for he had now recovered his speech). “I come in cloth
of gold to speak unto my love.”
“Sir,” replied the old man, “you may always enter here, for you are D.
Pedro of Aragon, I well can see.”
“What very high balconies, a hundred feet in height!” exclaimed Pedro.
“Tell me, good old man, does the princess ever come there?”
“To those balconies so high, to feel the cooling breeze,” replied the
gardener, “the princess comes there every evening alone.”
“Should she ask you,” continued Pedro, “who I am, tell her that I am
your son come from a distant land, and I will help you to water the
pinks.”
At her usual time the princess came to her favourite balcony, and seeing
Pedro watering the flowers, she beckoned to him, saying—
“O waterer of the pinks, come a little nearer and speak to me.”
“Is it true that you desire to speak to me?” inquired Pedro of the
princess.
“No mirror bright ever reflected the truth more correctly than the words
I uttered conveyed my desire,” answered the princess.
“Here, then, you have me,” said Pedro. “Order me as your slave; but give
me, for I am thirsty, a small ewer of water.”
The princess poured some water into a silver goblet, and having handed
it to Pedro, he exclaimed—
“And in this mirror bright of crystal water pure, which does reflect
thy form, I quench my heart’s deep thirst.”
“You see yonder palace at the end of the garden,” said the princess to
Pedro. “Well, in that palace you will be lodged for the night; but
should you ever tell any one what you see there, you will put yourself
in danger and cause me great trouble.”
Pedro promised to keep secret whatever he might see that night, and
bidding “good night” to the princess, he hastened to the palace which
the princess had pointed out to him, and, having entered it, he walked
through the marble passage, which seemed to be interminable. On each
side of him were rows of majestic columns, surmounted by gold capitals,
and now and again he thought he saw the forms of lovely young maidens
flitting among the columns.
Just as he was approaching a richly carved fountain surrounded by sacred
palms, a maiden of surprising beauty seemed to be addressing a Moor in
most impassioned tones, as if claiming his indulgence; but when Pedro
got up to them he discovered that both were the work of the statuary.
At every step the surroundings became more magnificent, and the carved
ceiling was of such exquisite workmanship that it seemed rather the
work of the loom, being so like the finest lace, than of the sculptor.
At last he arrived at the end of this avenue of columns, and noticing a
door in front of him, he opened it, and found himself standing on a
marble quay, against which the sea waves were washing.
Scanning the vast expanse of water before him, he observed approaching
him the same beautiful ship he had seen in the morning.
When the ship came alongside the quay, a sailor sprung on shore, and
made her fast by a golden cable; then, addressing Pedro, he said—
“I am glad you have not kept us waiting, for our royal mistress is very
wishful to consult you, as one of her favourite doves has broken its
right wing, and if you cannot cure it, the princess will die of
starvation.”
Pedro made no reply, but stepped on board the ship, which soon got under
way, and within a short time they were approaching the coast he knew so
well.
Having landed, Pedro saw the princess seated on the sand, nursing one of
her white pigeons.
“Pedro of Aragon,” the princess exclaimed, “a stranger dared to enter
my royal father’s garden, and in assisting to water the pinks he trod on
the wing of my favourite pigeon, and he has broken it.”
“Señora,” replied Pedro, “the intruder did probably seek you, and had no
idea of hurting the lovely bird.”
“That matters not,” continued the princess, “for my principal supporter
is wounded, and you must cure her. Cut out my heart, and steep this bird
in my warm blood, and when I am dead throw my body into the sea.”
“How can I kill one so lovely?” asked Pedro. “I would rather die myself
than hurt you!”
“Then you do not care for me, or else you would do as I bid you,”
answered the princess.
“Princess, I cannot and will not kill you; but I will do anything else
you bid me,” said Pedro.
“Well, then, since you will not kill me, I order you to take this pigeon
back with you; for I know it was you who walked in my father’s garden
to-day,” continued the princess. “And to-morrow evening, when you see
that princess whom you saw to-day, you must kill her, and let her blood
fall over this pretty bird.”
Pedro was now in great trouble, for he had promised the princess to do
anything she told him to do, except killing her, and he could not break
his word; so taking hold of the pigeon very gently, and bidding good-bye
to the princess, he again stepped on board the ship, and so depressed
was he that he had arrived at the marble quay without being aware of it.
On landing, he retraced his steps through the avenue of pillars, and
found himself once more in the garden, where the old gardener was again
watering the pinks.
“What very high balconies!” exclaimed Pedro. “Tell me, old gardener of
the ancient times, if the princess comes here to-day.”
“The princess loves the fresh sea-breeze,” answered the old man, “and
to-night she will come to the balcony, for her noble lover will be
waiting for her.”
“And who is the princess’s lover?” inquired Pedro.
“If you will help me to water the pinks, I will tell you,” said the old
man.
Pedro readily acquiesced, and putting down the pigeon where he thought
no harm would happen to it, he commenced assisting the gardener to
water the pinks.