EVERY one has heard of Bridget, the little girl saint of Ireland. Her
name is almost as well known as that of Saint Patrick, who drove all the
snakes from the Island. Saint Bridget had long golden hair; and she was
very beautiful. Many wonderful things happened to her that are written
in famous books. But I suspect that you never heard what she did about
the King's Wolf. It is a queer story.
This is how it happened. The King of Ireland had a tame wolf which some
hunters had caught for him when it was a wee baby. And this wolf ran
around as it pleased in the King's park near the palace, and had a very
good time. But one morning he got over the high wall which surrounded
the park, and strayed a long distance from home, which was a foolish
thing to do. For in those days wild wolves were hated and feared by the
people, whose cattle they often stole; and if a man could kill a wicked
wolf he thought himself a very smart fellow indeed. Moreover, the King
himself had offered a prize to any man who should bring him a dead wolf.
For he wanted his kingdom to be a peaceful, happy one, where the
children could play in the woods all day without fear of big eyes or big
teeth.
Of course you can guess what happened to the King's wolf? A big, silly
country fellow was going along with his bow and arrows, when he saw a
great brown beast leap over a hedge and dash into the meadow beyond. It
was only the King's wolf running away from home and feeling very frisky
because it was the first time that he had done such a thing. But the
country fellow did not know all that.
"Aha!" he said to himself. "I'll soon have you, my fine wolf; and the
King will give me a gold piece that will buy me a hat and a new suit of
clothes for the holidays." And without stopping to think about it or to
look closely at the wolf, who had the King's mark upon his ear, the
fellow shot his arrow straight as a string. The King's wolf gave one
great leap into the air and then fell dead on the grass, poor fellow.
The countryman was much pleased. He dragged his prize straight up to the
King's palace and thumped on the gate.
"Open!" he cried. "Open to the valiant hunter who has shot a wolf for
the King. Open, that I may go in to receive the reward."
So, very respectfully, they bade him enter; and the Lord Chamberlain
escorted him before the King himself, who sat on a great red-velvet
throne in the Hall. In came the fellow, dragging after him by the tail
the limp body of the King's wolf.
"What have we here?" growled the King, as the Lord Chamberlain made a
low bow and pointed with his staff to the stranger. The King had a bad
temper and did not like to receive callers in the morning. But the silly
countryman was too vain of his great deed to notice the King's
disagreeable frown.
"You have here a wolf, Sire," he said proudly. "I have shot for you a
wolf, and I come to claim the promised reward."
But at this unlucky moment the King started up with an angry cry. He had
noticed his mark on the wolf's right ear.
"Ho! Seize the villain!" he shouted to his soldiers. "He has slain my
tame wolf; he has shot my pet! Away with him to prison; and to-morrow he
dies."
It was useless for the poor man to scream and cry and try to explain
that it was all a mistake. The King was furious. His wolf was killed,
and the murderer must die.
In those days this was the way kings punished men who displeased them in
any way. There were no delays; things happened very quickly. So they
dragged the poor fellow off to a dark, damp dungeon and left him there
howling and tearing his hair, wishing that wolves had never been saved
from the flood by Noah and his Ark.
Now not far from this place little Saint Bridget lived. When she chose
the beautiful spot for her home there were no houses near, only a great
oak-tree, under which she built her little hut. It had but one room and
the roof was covered with grass and straw. It seemed almost like a
doll's playhouse, it was so small; and Bridget herself was like a big,
golden-haired wax doll,--the prettiest doll you ever saw.
She was so beautiful and so good that people wanted to live near her,
where they could see her sweet face often and hear her voice. When they
found where she had built her cell, men came flocking from all the
country round about with their wives and children and their household
goods, their cows and pigs and chickens; and camping on the green grass
under the great oak-tree they said, "We will live here, too, where Saint
Bridget is."
So house after house was built, and a village grew up about her little
cell; and for a name it had _Kildare_, which in Irish means "Cell of the
Oak." Soon Kildare became so fashionable that even the King must have a
palace and a park there. And it was in this park that the King's wolf
had been killed.
Now Bridget knew the man who had shot the wolf, and when she heard into
what terrible trouble he had fallen she was very sorry, for she was a
kind-hearted little girl. She knew he was a silly fellow to shoot the
tame wolf; but still it was all a mistake, and she thought he ought not
to be punished so severely. She wished that she could do something to
help him, to save him if possible. But this seemed difficult, for she
knew what a bad temper the King had; and she also knew how proud he had
been of that wolf, who was the only tame one in all the land.
Bridget called for her coachman with her chariot and pair of white
horses, and started for the King's palace, wondering what she should do
to satisfy the King and make him release the man who had meant to do no
harm.
But lo and behold! as the horses galloped along over the Irish bogs of
peat, Saint Bridget saw a great white shape racing towards her. At first
she thought it was a dog. But no: no dog was as large as that. She soon
saw that it was a wolf, with big eyes and with a red tongue lolling out
of his mouth. At last he overtook the frightened horses, and with a
flying leap came plump into the chariot where Bridget sat, and crouched
at her feet, quietly as a dog would. He was no tame wolf, but a wild
one, who had never before felt a human being's hand upon him. Yet he let
Bridget pat and stroke him, and say nice things into his great ear. And
he kept perfectly still by her side until the chariot rumbled up to the
gate of the palace.
Then Bridget held out her hand and called to him; and the great white
beast followed her quietly through the gate and up the stair and down
the long hall, until they stood before the red-velvet throne, where the
King sat looking stern and sulky.
They must have been a strange-looking pair, the little maiden in her
green gown with her golden hair falling like a shower down to her knees;
and the huge white wolf standing up almost as tall as she, his yellow
eyes glaring fiercely about, and his red tongue panting. Bridget laid
her hand gently on the beast's head which was close to her shoulder, and
bowed to the King. The King only sat and stared, he was so surprised at
the sight; but Bridget took that as a permission to speak.
"You have lost your tame wolf, O King," she said. "But I have brought
you a better. There is no other tame wolf in all the land, now yours is
dead. But look at this one! There is no white wolf to be found anywhere,
and he is both tame and white. I have tamed him, my King. I, a little
maiden, have tamed him so that he is gentle as you see. Look, I can
pull his big ears and he will not snarl. Look, I can put my little hand
into his great red mouth, and he will not bite. Sire, I give him to you.
Spare me then the life of the poor, silly man who unwittingly killed
your beast. Give his stupid life to me in exchange for this dear,
amiable wolf," and she smiled pleadingly.
The King sat staring first at the great white beast, wonderfully pleased
with the look of him, then at the beautiful maiden whose blue eyes
looked so wistfully at him. And he was wonderfully pleased with the look
of them, too. Then he bade her tell him the whole story, how she had
come by the creature, and when, and where. Now when she had finished he
first whistled in surprise, then he laughed. That was a good sign,--he
was wonderfully pleased with Saint Bridget's story, also. It was so
strange a thing for the King to laugh in the morning that the
Chamberlain nearly fainted from surprise; and Bridget felt sure that she
had won her prayer. Never had the King been seen in such a good humor.
For he was a vain man, and it pleased him mightily to think of owning
all for himself this huge beast, whose like was not in all the land, and
whose story was so marvelous.
And when Bridget looked at him so beseechingly, he could not refuse
those sweet blue eyes the request which they made, for fear of seeing
them fill with tears. So, as Bridget begged, he pardoned the countryman,
and gave his life to Bridget, ordering his soldiers to set him free from
prison. Then when she had thanked the King very sweetly, she bade the
wolf lie down beside the red-velvet throne, and thenceforth be faithful
and kind to his new master. And with one last pat upon his shaggy head,
she left the wolf and hurried out to take away the silly countryman in
her chariot, before the King should have time to change his mind.
The man was very happy and grateful. But she gave him a stern lecture on
the way home, advising him not to be so hasty and so wasty next time.
"Sirrah Stupid," she said as she set him down by his cottage gate,
"better not kill at all than take the lives of poor tame creatures. I
have saved your life this once, but next time you will have to suffer.
Remember, it is better that two wicked wolves escape than that one kind
beast be killed. We cannot afford to lose our friendly beasts, Master
Stupid. We can better afford to lose a blundering fellow like you." And
she drove away to her cell under the oak, leaving the silly man to think
over what she had said, and to feel much ashamed.
But the King's new wolf lived happily ever after in the palace park; and
Bridget came often to see him, so that he had no time to grow homesick
or lonesome.