Council want to blunder into such matters?’
But the Princess stopped him:
‘Oh, you mustn’t say that—please don’t say that,’ she said; ‘it’s not a
stupid old Council, it’s a very nice old Council, and it’s much nicer
than you are. When you get angry like that you’re not at all nice—so
just be quiet; now do.’
And he had to be quiet, for he was afraid of making her really angry.
She too was afraid she had hurt his feelings by telling him to be
quiet. So she asked him to join the hunt that was preparing outside,
and he of course accepted her invitation, for you see he was only
too glad to make it up. They rode out of the town, and soon a deer
was started, and the chase swept through the tall trees after it
over the thick carpet of fallen leaves and between the trunks of the
beech-trees. As a rule the Princess’s horse was swifter than any of
the deer they started, but this one seemed an exception to the rule,
for it went on at just the rate she did, keeping always at the same
speed whether she pulled her horse in or let it go at the top of its
speed. The Princess was quite annoyed at this. Gradually she passed all
the knights and huntsmen who were labouring forward at full gallop,
and then she came up with the hoarse-tongued hounds, who were running
steadily along with their noses close to the ground. And then she
passed them too, and their deep mouthing sounded behind, and gradually
the shouts of the huntsmen and the cries of the dogs and all the
sounds of the chase died away behind, and still the deer kept steadily
forward. Just at this time she noticed the heavy gallop of a horse
behind her, and looking round she saw the Knight of London cantering
easily behind. So she slackened her speed a little to let him come up,
and then she stopped to let the rest of the chase come up with her; and
when she stopped the deer stopped too, and nibbled quietly at a flower
that was growing at the foot of a tree.
By this time the Knight had come up with her, and she said:
‘So here you are. What an annoying thing that deer is—I can’t catch it
up, do whatever I may, and my horse used to be thought the fastest in
the world, except one,’ she added, after a moment.
‘That is strange,’ said the Knight. ‘I used always to think mine the
fastest in the world, and indeed, your Majesty, I think it is quite as
fast as yours.’
‘I do believe it is,’ she said. ‘It’s most annoying; every second
person I see now has a horse as fast as mine. However, we’ll try a race
as soon as the rest have caught us up.’
Just at that moment a hound’s bay came from close behind them, and the
deer started off again.
‘There it goes,’ said the Princess; and again she started off, and
the Knight kept close beside her. They went faster than ever, and she
could hardly breathe because of the wind, but the Knight kept steadily
by her side, and would not be out-distanced. Just at this moment she
happened to look upwards, and there was the Owl sailing quietly along
just over her head, flapping his wings lazily as if there were no need
for exertion, although they were going at such a rate that the Princess
could hardly keep her eyes open—just as when you put your head out of
the window of a railway train that is going pretty fast—a thing, by the
bye, that it is to be hoped you never do, or you might get your nose
chopped off against a post. When she looked down from the Owl, to her
surprise the deer had vanished altogether, and although she rubbed her
eyes she could not see it anywhere; and although they galloped still
farther on, no deer made its appearance, and the forest had become dark
and thick and she had never been there before. So she drew her horse in
so suddenly that its hoofs threw up the copper-coloured beech-leaves
in showers, and the Knight shot some distance in advance. However, he
turned and came back. So the Princess said:
‘What are we to do now?’
‘Go back, I suppose,’ he answered.
‘But I don’t know the way,’ she said, ‘and we are near the country of
the Magi, and they’re the most frightful creatures, who would tear us
up and eat us if they knew where to find us.’
The Knight smiled:
‘I could save you from them,’ he said.
But the Princess said reflectively:
‘I don’t know so much about that, for you see they’re very strong—and
how dark it’s getting; it must be past five, and it will soon be night.’
I daresay if she had been alone she would have had a good cry, but that
wouldn’t do before strangers.
It was still getting darker and she began to feel very uncomfortable,
for the howl of a wolf came down on the breeze, and a squirrel that had
been searching for nuts darted home to its hole, scuttling along as
fast as it could.
So she said:
‘Come, let us be quick and get away.’
‘Promise to marry me first.’
But she only said:
‘Oh, I’ll see about that when we’re safe—so do come.’
What the Knight would have answered was never known, for just then the
Owl, who was seated on her shoulder, gave a mournful ‘Tu-whoo,’ at
which the horse of the Knight jumped back nearly ten feet and almost
threw him with the unexpected shock. But before she could do anything a
hunter burst from the bushes near at hand and said:
‘Hurry, Princess, hurry; the Magi have heard of your whereabouts, and
they are coming at full speed here. Come, be quick.’
But the Princess said:
‘But what will you do, old man? for you have no horse.’
But he smiled contemptuously.
‘Horse! I don’t want a horse—why, I can run as well as any deer. Come,
come.’
And he caught the bridle of her horse and away they went, and for
the moment she forgot all about the Knight, for from behind came the
sound of crashing branches, and she knew that the Magi were following
them. But the old hunter ran in front of the horse, tugging at the
bridle-rein, and shouting to her to go faster, so she leant forward and
whispered in her horse’s ear, and it stretched forward with such speed
that it outsped the wind. Gradually the sounds behind began to get less
and less, and the wood began to get lighter, and at last they jumped
a little brook, and were at the end of the forest in a smooth meadow.
Here the old man stopped.
‘You are safe now,’ he said. And she drew a sigh of relief.
‘At last!’ she said; ‘but how can I reward you, my preserver? Would
you like a lock of my hair, or a purse full of gold, or a——? well that
wouldn’t do—you see I can’t well offer to marry you, though that’s
what princesses generally do to their preservers. You’d better choose
something for yourself. I will grant it, whatever it is.’
But the old man shook his head.
‘I want no reward, your Majesty; I only did my duty. I couldn’t have
done less. See, here come some of the hunters whom you left behind.’
And just then several of them came up, and when they saw her they
shouted and blew their horns to let the others know that the Princess
was found. But the huntsman said:
‘Good-day, your Majesty. I must go.’
‘But you haven’t got your reward yet.’
But he shook his head.
‘I want no reward,’ he said; and before the Princess could say any more
he stepped into the forest and was seen no more; so she turned her
horse towards the town.
On her way she met the head huntsman, so she drew rein and said:
‘Why did you not follow on the scent of the deer?’
‘It lay so thinly, your Majesty, that the dogs could not follow, and
they soon gave in.’
‘But you should have followed me, at any rate.’
‘Ah, your Majesty, we might as well have tried to prove the moon was
made of green cheese. Besides, your Majesty had one cavalier; and
sometimes two’s company and three’s none.’
Just at this moment the Princess remembered the Knight.
‘Good gracious!’ she said, ‘what has become of the Knight—have none of
you seen him?’
But none of them had, and although the question went far and wide no
news came of him, nor could he be seen anywhere.
‘He must have been caught by the Magi—if so, he will have been devoured
to a certainty! Poor Knight!’
The chief huntsman seemed excited:
‘Your Majesty has not been near the country of the Magi surely?’ he
said.
‘I was almost too near, and the poor Knight has probably been torn to
pieces in trying to drive them back.’
‘Your Majesty should be thankful that knights are so faithful,’ said
the chief huntsman; ‘but perhaps, after all, he has escaped by a
different path.’
But the Princess sighed:
‘I am afraid not,’ she said.
However, she rode on to the town to consult Lord Licec as to what
had better be done. But when she got there she found that he was
out of town and would not be back till next morning. So the poor
Princess had to go back home and wait—but she looked so pale that her
ladies-in-waiting insisted on sending for the doctor. He came in a
hurry, and asked her of course what was the matter, and when she told
him he shook his head.
‘I’m afraid he’s got rather a poor chance, for these Magi haven’t had a
good meal of one of your Majesty’s subjects for nearly three weeks, and
they were uncommonly hungry. But if your Majesty will allow me to feel
your pulse, I——’
So she gave him her hand, and he took out his watch and began to count.
‘One, two, three, four’; but just then he looked up and saw the Owl
sitting on the Princess’s shoulder, and his hand trembled so much that
he dropped his watch, and it smashed to atoms on the floor.
‘Oh dear, there goes ten and sixpence,’ he groaned; ‘and I shan’t be
able to get another for ever so long. D’you know, your Majesty, I think
you are somewhat feverish; and you had better go to bed. And meanwhile,
the Owl is too exciting for you; if you could let it be put in a cellar
and let it have nothing to eat for, say, three weeks, perhaps it might
not be so fiery after that.’
The Princess smiled:
‘Perhaps you would like to take him there yourself,’ she said.
But the doctor said:
‘Good gracious! no. I think he’s perfectly capable of taking himself
without any assistance. D’you know, your Majesty, I’ve got a very
pressing case outside; and if you will excuse me I will retire.’
And he retired so quickly that he left his umbrella behind him—for you
see he was very frightened of the Owl.
Acting on his advice the Princess went to bed, and dismissed her
ladies-in-waiting and told them not to come to the room again until she
called for them.
And then she lay with her hand under her head thinking of nothing in
particular, and the Owl sat on the top of the canopy over her bed.
Suddenly she heaved a deep sigh.
‘I wish I knew what had become of him,’ she thought to herself.
‘You wouldn’t like it if you did know,’ said a strange cracked voice
that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. She started up and
looked all round the room, but there was no one to be seen; so she
thought it was all imagination, and lay down again. And again she
thought to herself, ‘How I should like to be with him.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ said the voice.
This time she was sure it came from the Owl, so she asked quite softly,
‘Did you say that, cherished Owl?’
And the Owl answered:
‘I did.’
‘But I thought you could not speak, dear Owl.’
‘Well, you see, I can sometimes—when it’s necessary.’
‘But how did you know what I was thinking?—for I did not speak aloud.’
‘Ah! you see, Princess, I can’t tell you that—it’s quite enough for you
that I can tell.’
‘But why do you say I should not like to see him?’
‘Because you wouldn’t.’
‘Why? Is he all torn to pieces by the Magi?’
‘Torn to pieces!—not he,’ laughed the Owl.
‘Oh! that is good news,’ said she quite joyfully. ‘Oh! do take me to
him, dear Owl.’
‘Very well, Princess. But I warn you, you won’t be pleased with what
you see.’ But the Princess was quite confident.
‘Oh yes, I shall, dear Owl—when shall we go?’
‘At once, if you like—the sooner the better.’
‘Oh! you dear Owl. I’ll go and get dressed at once.’
So she ran into her dressing-room and dressed herself in no time,
without bothering to call up any of her ladies-in-waiting about it.
Then she went back to the room where the Owl was waiting for her.
He was sitting on the floor near the fire, blinking quietly at the
coals, and he did not at first notice her entry, so she said:
‘Well, good Owl, shall I send for the horse?’
‘What for?’ asked the Owl.
‘To ride on, I suppose!’ she answered.
‘Oh, that’s it, is it? That would never do. Just get on my back, and
I’ll see if I can’t carry you somewhat faster than a horse could.’
So she got on his back, although she was rather afraid she would crush
him altogether. But somehow, when she sat down, she sank deep into his
warm feathers,—either she had grown small, or the Owl had grown very
big all of a sudden. Without the least shock they passed through the
wall, and out into the clear star-light.
‘Good Owl,’ said the Princess, ‘you won’t let me fall, will you?’ for,
to tell the truth, she felt rather afraid on the whole; but the Owl
answered:
‘No, of course not; you’re quite safe, only you’d better keep close to
me, for we shall go pretty fast, and the wind will be sharp enough to
cut your hair off.’
So she sat still, protected against the wind, and looking at the
twinkling stars—for the Owl flew so high that he almost rubbed some of
them out of their places.
The wind whistled loud in the wings of the Owl, but his flight was so
regular that she almost fell asleep, and was quite happy—for you see
she felt quite safe. Presently the straight flight of the Owl changed,
and he began to circle round and round, and then they dropped quickly
towards the earth, and the Owl stopped.
‘You can get off now,’ he said, and she stepped off his back.
‘Take care,’ he said next; and she rubbed her eyes in astonishment, for
she found herself on the top of a roof.
‘I told you you wouldn’t like it if you came,’ he said. ‘But you’d
better look down below if you want to see anything that’s going on,’
and he gravely seated himself on her shoulder, for he seemed quite
small again. So the Princess looked down, and she saw at some distance
below a large fire that was blazing in a sort of courtyard, and then
she saw that it was the battlements of a castle on which they were
standing. Presently a horrible-looking old witch came within the glow
of the fire—she was an awful old creature too, and she almost made the
Princess cry out from fright. She seated herself near the fire, and
began to beat the ground angrily with the handle of a broom that she
carried, and every now and then muttered as she did so:
‘How awfully late he is. Why don’t he come?’ and various other
complaints of his lateness.
‘But who is he?’ asked the Princess of the Owl in a whisper.
‘Wait, and you’ll see,’ said the Owl.
Just then something peculiar happened down below—a couple of men
appeared suddenly. They did not seem to come from anywhere in
particular, but they were there all the same. The Princess almost
screamed with astonishment, but she checked herself in time by stuffing
a pocket-handkerchief into her mouth, for one of the men whom she saw
was the Knight of London, and the other was Magog the King of the Magi;
and the Knight of London did not seem to be on bad terms with the King
of the Magi.
‘You’ve come at last,’ growled the old woman, in a voice something
between the squeaking of a slate-pencil on a slate and the growling of
a bear with a sore head.
‘I couldn’t come any sooner, mother,’ said the Knight of London
soothingly; ‘you see I had to wait for her to promise to marry me.’
‘Well, has she promised?’ said the witch.
‘Not yet.’
‘Then why on earth not?’
‘She said she had to wait for the consent of the Council.’
‘Why didn’t you eat her?’ said Magog sleepily; and then, without
waiting for an answer, he curled himself up close to the fire and went
to sleep.
But the old witch went on:
‘Well, and what are your plans now?’
‘I’m going back to-morrow morning, and I’m going to take old Magog and
pretend that he’s my prisoner of war, and then the stupid old Council
will say I’ve done a service to the State, and they will give me the
hand of the Princess for my pains.’
‘But supposing they don’t?’
‘Then I shall cut them all to pieces, and kill the Princess, and make
myself king by force—for you see nothing can cut through my armour,
except one thing.’
‘And what’s that?’ asked the witch.
‘Well, I don’t mind telling you, mother, because you won’t go and tell
any one—it’s _Paper_!’
‘That’s a funny sort of thing to cut through armour.’
‘It may be funny,’ answered the Knight, ‘but it’s true all the same,
and if the Prince of India had found it out I should not be where I am
now; only he didn’t, you see.’
‘So much the worse for him,’ said the witch; ‘but is there nothing at
all but paper that can cut through it?’
‘Well, there is one thing that can—the beak of the Owl, to wit.’
‘Tu—whoo!’ suddenly cried the Owl.
The effect of this sudden cry was tremendous. The Knight clung to his
mother, and cried out in a piteous voice:
‘Oh, mother! mother! it’s the Owl; save me!’
‘How on earth can I save you if you hang on me like this?’ said his
mother. ‘Just throw some more wood on, so that we can see this Owl, and
I’ll fling my broom at it, and see if that won’t bring it down.’
But the Princess leant her head to the Owl, and said:
‘Dear Owl, let’s go. I’ve seen quite enough.’
And the Owl seemed to think the same, for he said:
‘All right. Just get on my back again, and we’ll go.’
So she did as she was told, and no sooner had she got on his back than
she fell asleep, and remembered no more until she found herself lying
on her bed with the early morning sun shining through the lattice.
She rubbed her eyes in astonishment, and it seemed as if it had been
all a dream. But it all was so clear on her mind, and besides she had
on her riding-clothes just as she had put them on to go with the Owl.
To make herself feel more sure she said to the Owl:
‘Good Owl, was it a dream?’
And the Owl shook his head, but although she asked him several times to
speak she could not get the least word out of him, although he always
shook his head if she asked him if it was a dream.
Just then a tremendous noise in the street made her run to the window,
and there she saw the Knight of London coming up to the door, dragging
the King of the Magi behind him in chains, and the people of the town
were following him in an excited crowd, which caused all the noise, for
they were naturally very glad to see their old enemy in chains.
The Knight rode straight up to the palace door, and when he saw the
Princess at the window he smiled and said:
‘Good morning, your Majesty—you see I am returned.’
And the Princess said:
‘Good morning,’ as if she were very glad to see him, for she had not
yet quite made up her mind about what she was going to do—for of course
she could not marry him after what she had seen the night before. So
she drew back from the window to think about it—for it would never do
to try to get rid of him by force. At last she hit upon a plan—she had
to think of it herself—for the Owl would tell her nothing.
She went to the door of her room, but there were no guards at the
door—they had run down to see what the shouting was about. But just
then the doctor came up the stairs:
‘Good morning, your Majesty,’ he said; ‘have you had a good night?’
‘A very good night, thank you, doctor. But that doesn’t matter just
now. I want the Prince of India.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ said the doctor.
‘I say I want the Prince of India.’
‘The _who_?’ said the astonished doctor.
‘The Prince of India.’
‘Then I am afraid he can’t come. But if the Knight of London would do——’
‘But he won’t! I want the Prince of India at once.’
‘I fear your Majesty can’t have him at once. You _wouldn’t_ have him
once, you know.’
‘But why not?’
‘Because at the present moment he isn’t well enough to move.’
‘Oh, good gracious!—but why is that?’
‘Well, your Majesty, if you’d been thrown from your horse with great
violence, and had half a foot of spear stuck into you, besides being
mortified at your overthrow, perhaps you would be rather unwell.’
‘Oh, poor fellow, I didn’t know he was so bad as that. I’ll go and see
him at once.’
‘I think your Majesty had better not.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it might excite him too much, and besides, what would the
Knight of London——’
But the Princess drew herself up and said:
‘I beg your pardon, but I must ask you not to mention that gentleman’s
name, if you please.’
‘Whe—ew,’ ejaculated the doctor; ‘what’s in the wind now?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ said the Princess.
‘I—I only said—it’s an east wind now, your Majesty.’
Just then a page came running up, and said that the Knight of London
wished to speak to the Princess.
‘Tell him that I am not quite well enough to see him now, but I will
send a message to him, if he will stop a moment. And on your way just
ask Lord Licec to come to me, please.’
‘Yes, your Majesty,’ said the page, and he disappeared.
In a moment Lord Licec came.
‘You sent for me, your Majesty, I believe?’
‘I did, my lord. It was about this Knight of London. I have discovered
that he is not what he pretends to be at all, for he is in league with
the Magi; and this Magog whom he pretends is his prisoner is really
nothing of the sort. He is one of his allies, and they are going to
break out and kill me, and every one else, and make themselves masters
of everything.’
‘Oh, my wig!’ suddenly said the doctor, ‘I hope your Majesty won’t let
them; if you intend to I shall depart without delay, for I don’t want
to be eaten by this Magog.’
‘That’s just what I wanted to prevent by begging the Prince of India to
help us; only you said that I mayn’t see him, doctor.’
‘Oh! on the contrary, your Majesty, it would be the best thing in the
world—we’ll go at once.’
‘Wait a moment,’ said the Princess, and turning to Lord Licec she went
on:
‘Now I want you to tell him that the Lords of the Council say that the
last tournament was unfair, because he came in fresh at the end. And
that if he wants to—to claim his rights, he must submit to go through
another tournament. Of course he will—because he’s quite sure of
winning—but he won’t this time.’
‘Are you quite sure, your Majesty?’
‘Oh! quite. And as all the knights who tilted last time are still in
the town, let it take place to-morrow.’
‘Yes, your Majesty.’
‘And if you could keep him out of the way for a few hours—so that he
won’t know what I’m going to do—so much the better.’
‘I’ll challenge him to a game of “Beggar-my-Neighbour”—that generally
lasts for a pretty good time.’
‘That will do; the longer the better. Now I’m ready, doctor, if you’ll
conduct me to the Prince.’
So they went out at a back door for fear the Knight of London should
see them, and they soon reached the house of the Prince.
At the door was a servant, and they asked him where the Prince was.
‘In the garden, your Majesty. I will go and announce your arrival to
him.’
But the Princess said:
‘Oh no! never mind—you needn’t trouble.’
And they went through into the garden. On the way the Princess said to
the doctor:
‘I thought you said he was not well enough to get up?’
‘I did, your Majesty, but he insisted that he must get up, and be off
to India this afternoon, and he was excessively violent when I told him
he had better not get up—in fact he—he kicked me downstairs; and if
your Majesty has no present need of me I will retire, for to tell the
truth he threatened to have me ducked in a horsepond if I came near him
again—and he meant it too.’
So the Princess gave him leave to go—in fact she was rather glad he
had gone; and she went on walking down the path. It was one of those
old-fashioned manor-gardens, full of tall stiff hollyhocks, and damask
roses, and beds of thyme and mint, over which the bees were humming so
loudly that they could be heard over the whole garden. As the Princess
could not see him down one path, she turned into another alley of stiff
holly bushes, but he was not to be seen down there either; however, she
walked fast to the end of it—for you see she was rather impatient. Now
it happened that just as she turned the corner, the Prince happened
to be coming round too, and the result was that as they were going
rather fast, and the Prince was the heavier of the two, the Princess
was thrown back with violence against the hedge, and she couldn’t help
exclaiming:
‘Oh!’—for you see he had trodden on her toe. As for the Prince, he
could scarcely stand—for the shock and the sight of the Princess
together produced a tremendous effect, as you may imagine—for she was
the last person he had expected to see.
‘My goodness!’ he said, as soon as he was able to speak. ‘Your
Majesty—I hope I haven’t hurt you—I am really very sorry. I am very
sorry—will you allow me to help you to a seat?—for I see I have trodden
on your foot.’
Her Majesty said:
‘Oh no! not at all, thank you.’