ONCE upon a time when Childebert was King of France, a thousand years
ago, there lived a young man named Hyvarnion who was very handsome and
had the sweetest voice. Hyvarnion was the King's minstrel; he lived at
the palace and it was his business to make music for the King to keep
him in a good temper. For he wrote the most beautiful songs and sang
them to the accompaniment of a golden harp which he carried with him
everywhere he went. And besides all this Hyvarnion was very wise; so
wise that when he was a boy at school he was called the Little Sage, for
Saint Cadoc had been his master and had taught him many things that even
the King, who was a heathen, did not know.
Now Hyvarnion had lived four years with the King when one night he had a
wonderful dream. He dreamed that he saw a beautiful maiden picking
flowers in a meadow, and that she smiled at him and gave him a blossom,
saying, "This is for my King." And Hyvarnion woke up longing to see the
maiden more than anything else in the world.
For three nights he dreamed the same dream, of the singing maiden and
the meadow and the flowers; and each time she seemed more beautiful than
on the last. So on the fourth day he woke up and said, "I must find that
maiden. I _must_ find her and hear her call me her King."
So, taking his golden harp on his back, he went out from the palace and
struck into the deep black forest. By and by he came to an open place,
like a meadow, where the grass grew tall and thick, and where in the
midst was a spring like a bit of mirror set in a green frame. And
Hyvarnion's heart beat fast with joy when he saw on the border of the
spring the very maiden about whom he had dreamed, but much more
beautiful than any dream. She was bending over, picking something from
the grass, and she seemed like a wonderful pink-and-white flower set
among the other flowers of yellow and red and blue.
For a moment Hyvarnion stood and gazed with open mouth and happy eyes.
Then he took his harp and began to sing a song which he had just that
minute made. For because he was a minstrel it was easier for him to sing
than to talk. And in the song he called her Queen Iris gathering flowers
for her crown. Then the maiden raised her head and she turned pinker and
whiter, and looked even more like a fair flower than before. For she too
had had a dream, three times. And it was of golden-haired Hyvarnion that
she had dreamed, whom she now saw looking at her and singing so sweetly
with his silver voice.
But she also answered him in a song, for she was a singer, too. "I am no
Queen Iris," she sang, "I am only the little maiden Rivanone, though
they call me Queen of this Fountain. And I am not gathering flowers as
you say, fair Sir, but I am seeking simple herbs such as wise men use to
cure pain and trouble."
[Illustration: HYVARNION AND RIVANONE]
"What are the herbs you seek, Rivanone?" asked Hyvarnion, coming nearer.
She held up a sprig of green in her white hand. "See, this is the
vervain," she answered in song; "this brings happiness and heart's ease.
But I seek two others which I have not found. The second opens the eyes
of the blind. And the third,--few may ever find that precious herb,--the
third is the root of life, and at its touch death flees away. Alas!
Fair Sir, I cannot find those two, though some day I feel that I shall
need them both most sorely." Rivanone sighed and two tears stood like
dewdrops in her flower eyes.
But Hyvarnion had now come very close. "Still, you have found the first,
which gives happiness, little Queen," he sang tenderly. "Have you not
happiness to share with me, Rivanone?" Then the maiden looked up in his
eyes and smiled, and held out to him a sprig of the green vervain.
"For my King," she sang, just as he had dreamed. And then he did just
what she had dreamed he would do; but that is a secret which I cannot
tell. For no one knows all that a maiden dreams.
And after this and that they came back to the King's palace hand in
hand, singing a beautiful song which together they had made about
Happiness. So they were married at the court, and the King did them
great honor and made them King and Queen of music and of song.
So, happily they lived and happily they sang in their little Kingdom of
Poesie,--for did they not possess the herb of joy which Rivanone had
found and shared with Hyvarnion, her King?