It is to tell of Harold, the son of Egbert, the son of Ib; comely was
he to look upon, and a braver than he lived not in these islands, nor
one more beloved of all people. But it chanced upon a time, while he
was still in early manhood, that a grievous sorrow befell him; for on a
day his mother Eleanor came to her end in this full evil wise. It was
her intent to go unto the neighboring island, where grazed the goats
and the kine, and it fortuned that, as she made her way thither in the
boat, she heard sweet music, as if one played upon a harp in the
waters, and, looking over the side of the boat, she beheld down in the
waters a sea-maiden making those exceeding pleasant sounds. And the
sea-maiden ceased to play, and smiled up at Eleanor, and stretched up
her hands and besought Eleanor to pluck her from the sea into the boat,
which seeking to do, Eleanor fell headlong into the waters, and was
never thereafter seen either alive or dead by any of her kin. Now
under this passing heavy grief Egbert, the son of Ib, being old and
spent by toil, brake down, and on a night died, making with his latest
breath most heavy lamentation for Eleanor, his wife; so died he, and
his soul sped, as they tell, to that far northern land where the souls
of the departed make merry all the night, which merriment sendeth forth
so vast and so beautiful a light that all the heavens are illumined
thereby. But Harold, the son of Egbert and of Eleanor, was left alone,
having neither brother, nor sister, nor any of kin, save an uncle
abiding many leagues distant in Jutland. Thereupon befell a wonderful
thing; if it had not happened it would not be told. It chanced that,
on a certain evening in the summer-time, Harold walked alone where a
Druid circle lay coiled like a dark serpent on a hillside; his heart
was filled with dolor, for he thought continually of Eleanor, his
mother, and he wept softly to himself through love of that dear mother.
While thus he walked in vast heaviness of soul, he was beheld of
Membril, the fairy that with her goodly subjects dwelt in the ruin of
the Pict's house hard by the Druid circle. And Membril had compassion
upon Harold, and upon the exceeding fine down of a tiny sea-bird she
rode out to meet him, and it was before his eyes as if a star shined
out of a mist in his pathway. So it was that Membril the fairy made
herself known to him, and having so done, she said and she sung:
I am Membril, queen of Fay,
That would charm thy grief away!
Thou art like the little bark
Drifting in the cold and dark,--
Drifting through the tempest's roar
To a rocky, icy shore;
All the torment dost thou feel
Of the spent and fearful seal
Wounded by the hunter's steel.
I am Membril,--hark to me:
Better times await on thee!
Wouldst thou clasp thy mother dear,--
Strange things see and stranger hear?
Straight betake thee to thy boat
And to yonder haven float,--
Go thy way, and silent be,--
It is Membril counsels thee;
Go thy way, and thou shalt see!
Great marvel had Harold to this thing; nevertheless he did the bidding
of Membril the fairy, and it was full wisely done. And presently he
came to where his boat lay, half on the shore and half in the waters,
and he unloosed the thong that held it, and entered into the boat; but
he put neither hand to the oars thereof, for he was intent to do the
bidding of Membril the fairy. Then as if of its own accord, or as if
the kindly waves themselves bore it along, the boat moved upon the
waters and turned toward the yonder haven whereof it was said and sung.
Fair shone the moon, and the night was passing fair; the shadows fell
from the hilltops in their sleep and lay, as they had been little weary
children, in the valleys and upon the shore, and they were rocked in
the cradles of those valleys, and the waters along the shore sung
softly to them. Upon the one side lay the island where grazed the
goats and the kine, and upon the other side lay the island where Harold
and other people abode; between these islands crept the sea with its
gentle murmurings, and upon this sea drifted the boat bearing Harold to
the yonder haven. Now the haven whereunto the course lay brooded
almost beneath the shadow of the Stennis stones, and the waters thereof
were dark, as if, forsooth, the sea frowned whensoever it saw those
bloody stones peering down into its tranquil bosom. And some said that
the place was haunted, and that upon each seventh night came thereunto
the spirits of them that had been slain upon those stones, and waved
their ghostly arms and wailed grievously; but of latter times none
believeth this thing to be true.
It befell that, coming into the haven and bearing toward the shore
thereof, Harold was 'ware of sweet music, and presently he saw figures
as of men and women dancing upon the holm; but neither could he see who
these people were, nor could he tell wherefrom the music came. But
such fair music never had he heard before, and with great marvel he
came from the boat into the cluster of beech-trees that stood between
the haven and that holm where the people danced. Then of a sudden
Harold saw twelve skins lying upon the shore in the moonlight; and they
were the comeliest and most precious sealskins that ever he saw, and he
coveted them. So presently he took up one of the sealskins and bore it
with him into his boat, and pushed the boat from the shore into the
waters of the haven again, and, so doing, there was such plashing of
the waters that those people dancing upon the fair green holm became
'ware of Harold's presence, and were afeared, so that, ceasing from
their sport, they made haste down to the shore and did on the skins and
dived into the waters with shrill cries. But there was one of them
that could not do so, because Harold bore off that skin wherewith she
was wont to begird herself, and when she found it not she wailed and
wept and besought Harold to give her that skin again,--and, lo! it was
Eleanor, the wife of Egbert! Now when Harold saw that it was his
mother that so entreated him he was filled with wonder, and he drew
nearer the shore to regard her and to hear her words, for he loved her
passing well. But he denied her that skin, knowing full well that so
soon as she possessed it she would leave him and he should never again
behold her. Then Eleanor related to him how that she had been drowned
in the sea through treachery of the harp-maiden, and how that the souls
of drowned people entered into the bodies of seals, nor were permitted
to return to earth, save only one night in every month, at which time
each recovered his human shape and was suffered to dance in the
moonlight upon the fair green holm from the hour of sunset unto the
hour of sunrise.
"Give me the skin, I pray thee," she cried, "for if the sun came upon
me unawares I should crumble into dust before thine eyes, and that
moment would a curse fall upon you. I am happy as I am; the sea and
those who dwell therein are good to me,--give me the skin, I beseech
thee, that I may return whence I came, and thereby shall a great
blessing accrue to thee and thine."
But Harold said: "Nay, mother, I were a fool to part so cheerfully with
one whom I love dearer than life itself! I shall not let you go so
easily; you shall come with me to our home, where I have lived alone
too long already. I shall be alone no longer,--come with me, I say,
for I will not deliver up this skin, nor shall any force wrest it from
me!"
Then Eleanor, his mother, reasoned a space with him, and anon she
showed him the folly of his way; but still he hung his head upon his
breast and was loath to do her bidding, until at last she sware unto
him that if he gave to her that skin he should, upon the next dancing
night, have to wife the most beautiful maiden in the world, and
therefore should be alone in the world no more. To this presently
Harold gave assent, and then Eleanor, his mother, bade him come to that
same spot one month hence, and do what she should then bid him do.
Receiving, therefore, the skin from him, she folded it about her and
threw herself into the sea, and Harold betook himself unto his home.
Now wit ye well that full wearily dragged the days and the nights until
that month was spent; but now at last it was the month of August, and
upon the night of the seventh day thereof ended the season of waiting.
It is to tell that upon that night came Harold, the son of Egbert, from
his hut, and stood on the threshold thereof, and awaited the rising of
the moon from out the silver waters yonder. While thus he stood there
appeared unto him Membril the fairy, and smiling upon him she said and
she sung:--
I am Membril, queen of Fay,
Come to urge thee on thy way;
Haste to yonder haven-side
Where awaits thy promised bride;
Daughter of a king is she,--
Many leagues she comes to thee,
Thine and only thine to be.
Haste and see, then come again
To thy pretty home, and, when
Smiles the sun on earth once more,
Will come knocking at thy door;
Open then, and to thy breast
Clasp whom thou shalt love the best!
It is Membril counsels thee,--
Haste and see what thou shalt see!
Now by this thing was Harold mightily rejoiced, and he believed it to
be truth that great good was in store for him; for he had seen pleasant
things in the candle a many nights, and the smoke from his fire blew
cheerily and lightly to the westward, and a swan had circled over his
house that day week, and in his net each day for twice seven days had
he drawn from the sea a fish having one golden eye and one silver eye:
which things, as all men know, portend full goodly things, or else they
portend nothing at all whatsoever. So, being pleasantly minded, Harold
returned in kind unto Membril, the fairy queen, that bespoke him so
courteously, and to her and to them that bore her company he said and
he sung:--
Welcome, bonnie queen of Fay!
For thou speakest pleasing words;
Thou shalt have a gill of whey
And a thimblefull of curds;
In this rose is honey-dew
That a bee hath brought for you!
Welcome, bonnie queen of Fay!
Call thy sisters from the gloam,
And, whilst I am on my way,
Feast and frolic in my home,--
Kiss the moonbeams, blanching white,
Shrinking, shivering with affright!
Welcome, all, and have no fear,--
There is flax upon the sill,
No foul sprite can enter here,--
Feast and frolic as you will;
Feast and frisk till break of day,--
Welcome, little folk of Fay!
Thus having said and thus having sung, Harold went upon his way, and
came to his boat and entered into it and journeyed to the haven where
some time he had seen and discoursed with Eleanor, his mother. His
course to this same haven lay, as before, over the waters that stole in
between the two islands from the great sea beyond. Fair shone the
moon, and the night was passing fair; the shadows rolled from the
hilltops in their sleep and lay like little weary children in the
valleys and upon the shore, and they were rocked in the cradles of
those valleys, and the waters along the shore sung softly to them.
Upon this hand lay the island where the goats and the kine found sweet
pasturage, and upon the other hand stretched the island where people
abode, and where the bloody Stennis stones rebuked the smiling sky, and
where ghosts walked and wailed and waved their white arms in the
shadows of those haunted ruins where once upon a time the Picts had
dwelt. And Harold's heart was full of joy, the more in especial when,
as he bore nigh unto the haven, he heard sweet music and beheld a
goodly company of people that danced in the moonlight upon the fair
green holm. Then, when presently his boat touched the inner shore of
the haven, and he departed therefrom and drew the boat upon the shore,
he saw wherefrom issued the beautiful music to which the people danced;
he saw that the waters reached out their white fingers and touched the
kale and the fair pebbles and the brittle shells and the moss upon the
beach, and these things gave forth sweet sounds, which were as if a
thousand attuned harps vied with the singing of the summer-night winds.
Then, as before, Harold saw sealskins lying upon the shore, and
presently came Eleanor, his mother, and pointing to a certain fair
velvet skin, she said: "Take that fair velvet skin into thy boat and
speed with all haste to thy home. To-morrow at sunrise thy bride shall
come knocking at thy door. And so, farewell, my son,--oh, Harold, my
only son!" Which saying, Eleanor, the wife of Egbert, drew a skin
about her and leapt into the sea; nor was she ever thereafter beholden
of human eyes.
Then Harold took up the fair velvet skin to which his mother had
directed him, and he bore it away with him in his boat. So softly went
he upon the waters that none of them that danced upon the fair green
holm either saw or heard him. Still danced they on to the sweet music
made by the white fingers of the waves, and still shone the white moon
upon the fair green holm where they so danced.
Now when came Harold to his home, bearing the precious skin with him,
he saw the fairies at play upon the floor of his hut, and they feared
no evil, for there was barley strewn upon the sill so that no wicked
sprite could enter there. And when Membril, the fairy queen, saw him
bringing the skin that he had found upon the shore, she bade him good
welcome, and she said and she sung:--
I am Membril, queen of Fay,--
Ponder well what words I say;
Hide that fair and velvet skin
Some secluded spot within;
In the tree where ravens croak,--
In the hollow of the oak,
In the cave with mosses lined,
In the earth where none may find;
Hide it quick and hide it deep,--
So secure shall be thy sleep,
Thine shall bride and blessings be,
Thine a fair posterity,--
So doth Membril counsel thee!
So, pondering upon this counsel and thinking well of it, Harold took
the fair velvet skin and hid it, and none knew where it was hid,--none
save only the raven that lived in the hollow oak. And when he had so
done he returned unto his home and lay upon his bed and slept. It came
to pass that early upon the morrow, when the sun made all the eastward
sky blush for the exceeding ardor of his morning kiss, there came a
knocking at the door of Harold's hut, and Harold opened the door, and
lo! there stood upon the threshold the fairest maiden that eyes ever
beheld. Unlike was she to maidens dwelling in those islands, for her
hair was black as the waters of the long winter night, and her eyes
were as the twin midnight rocks that look up from the white waves of
the moonlit sea in yonder reef; withal was she most beautiful to look
upon, and her voice was as music that stealeth to one over pleasant
waters.
The maiden's name was Persis, and she was the daughter of a Pagan king
that ruled in a country many, many--oh, many leagues to the southward
of these islands, in a country where unicorns and dragons be, and where
dwelleth the phoenix and hippogriffins and the cockatrix, and where
bloometh a tree that runneth blood, and where mighty princes do
wondrous things. Now it fortuned that the king was minded to wed his
daughter Persis unto a neighboring prince, a high and mighty prince,
but one whom Persis loved not, neither could she love. So for the
first time Persis said, "Nay, I will not," unto her father's mandate,
whereat the king was passing wroth, and he put his daughter in a place
that was like a jail to her, for it was where none might see her, and
where she might see none,--none but those that attended upon her. This
much told Persis, the Pagan princess, unto Harold, and then,
furthermore, she said: "The place wherein I was put by the king, my
father, was hard by the sea, and oftentimes I went thereon in my little
boat, and once, looking down from that boat into the sea, I saw the
face of a fair young man within a magic mirror that was held up in the
waters of the sea by two ghostly hands, and the fair young man moved
his lips and smiled at me, and methought I heard him say: 'Come, be my
bride, O fair and gentle Persis!' But, vastly afeared, I cried out and
put back again to shore. Yet in my dreams I saw that face and heard
that voice, nor could I find any rest until I came upon the sea again
in hope to see the face and hear the voice once more. Then, that
second time, as I looked into the sea, another face came up from below
and lifted above the waters, and a woman's voice spake thus to me: 'I
am mother of him that loveth thee and whom thou lovest; his face hast
thou seen in the mirror, and of thee I have spoken to him; come, let me
bear thee as a bride to him!' And in that moment a faintness came upon
me and I fell into her arms, and so was I drowned (as men say), and so
was I a seal a little space until last dancing night, when, lo! some
one brought me to life again, and one that said her name was Membril
showed me the way unto thy door. And now I look upon thy face in
truth, and thou art he who shall have me to his wife, for thou art he
whose face I saw within the mirror which the ghostly hands bore up to
me that day upon the sea!"
Great then was Harold's joy, and he folded her in his arms, and he
spake sweet words to her, and she was content. So they were wed that
very day, and there came to do them honor all the folk upon these
islands: Dougal and Tam and Ib and Robbie and Nels and Gram and Rupert
and Rolf and many others and all their kin, and they made merry, and it
was well. And never spake the Pagan princess of that soft velvet skin
which Harold had hid away,--never spake she of it to him or to any
other one.
It is to tell that to Harold and to Persis were born these children,
and in this order: Egbert and Ib (that was nicknamed the Strong) and
Harold and Joan and Tam and Annie and Rupert the Fair and Flocken and
Elsa and Albert and Theodoric,--these eleven children were born unto
them in good time; and right fair children were they to see, comely and
stout, yet sweetly minded withal. And prosperous times continually
befell Harold; his herds multiplied, and the fish came into his nets,
so that presently there was none other richer than he in all that
country, and he did great good with his riches, for he had compassion
to the poor. So Harold was beloved of all, and all spake full fairly
of his wife,--how that she cared for his little ones, and kept the
house, and did deeds of sweet charity among the needy and
distressed,--ay, so was Persis, the wife of Harold, beloved of all, and
by none other more than by Harold, who was wont to say that Persis had
brought him all he loved best: his children, his fortune, his
happiness, and, best of all, herself. So now they were wed twice seven
years, and in that time was Persis still as young and fair to look upon
as when she came to Harold's door for the first time and knocked. This
I account to be a marvel, but still more a marvel was it that in all
these years spake she never a word of that soft velvet skin which
Harold took and hid,--never a word to him nor to any one else. But the
soft velvet skin lay meanwhile in the hollow of the oak, and in the
branches of that tree perched a raven that croaked and croaked and
croaked.
Now it befell upon a time that a ship touched at that island, and there
came therefrom men that knelt down upon the shore and made strange
prayers to a strange God, and forthwith uplifted in that island a
symbol of wood in the similitude of a cross. Straightway went Harold
with the rest to know the cause thereof, being fearful lest for this
impiety their own gods, whom they served diligently, should send hail
and fire upon them and their herds. But those that had come in the
ship spake gently with them and showed themselves to be peaceful folk
whose God delighted not in wars, but rather in gentleness and love.
How it was, I, knowing not, cannot say, but presently the cause of that
new God, whose law was gentleness and love, waxed mightily, and the
people came from all around to kiss that cross and worship it. And
among them came Harold, for in his heart had dawned the light of a new
wisdom, and he knew the truth as we know it, you and I. So Harold was
baptized in the Christian faith, he and his children; but Persis, his
wife, was not baptized, for she was the daughter of a Pagan king, and
she feared to bring evil upon those she loved by doing any blasphemous
thing. Right sorely grieved was Harold because of this, and oftentimes
he spake with her thereof, and oftentimes he prayed unto his God and
ours to incline her mind toward the cross, which saveth all alike. But
Persis would say: "My best beloved, let me not do this thing in haste,
for I fear to vex thy God since I am a Pagan and the daughter of a
Pagan king, and therefore have not within me the light that there is in
thee and thy kind. Perchance (since thy God is good and gracious) the
light will come to me anon, and shine before mine eyes as it shineth
before thine. I pray thee, let me bide my time." So spake Persis, and
her life ever thereafter was kind and charitable, as, soothly, it had
ever before been, and she served Harold, her husband, well, and she was
beloved of all, and a great sweetness came to all out of her daily life.
It fortuned, upon a day whilst Harold was from home, there was knocking
at the door of their house, and forthwith the door opened and there
stood in the midst of them one clad all in black and of rueful
countenance. Then, as if she foresaw evil, Persis called unto her
little ones and stood between them and that one all in black, and she
demanded of him his name and will. "I am the Death-Angel," quoth he,
"and I come for the best-beloved of thy lambs!"
Now Theodoric was that best-beloved; for he was her very little one,
and had always slept upon her bosom. So when she heard those words she
made a great outcry, and wrestled with the Death-Angel, and sought to
stay him in his purpose. But the Death-Angel chilled her with his
breath, and overcame her, and prevailed against her; and he reached
into the midst of them and took Theodoric in his arms and folded him
upon his breast, and Theodoric fell asleep there, and his head dropped
upon the Death-Angel's shoulder. But in her battle for the child,
Persis catched at the chain about the child's neck, and the chain brake
and remained in her hand, and upon the chain was the little cross of
fair alabaster which an holy man had put there when Theodoric was
baptized. So the Death-Angel went his way with that best-beloved lamb,
and Persis fell upon her face and wailed.
The years went on and all was well upon these islands. Egbert became a
mighty fisherman, and Ib (that was nicknamed the Strong) wrought
wondrous things in Norroway, as all men know; Joan was wed to Cuthbert
the Dane, and Flocken was wooed of a rich man's son of Scotland. So
were all things for good and for the best, and it was a marvel to all
that Persis, the wife of Harold, looked still to be as young and
beautiful as when she came from the sea to be her husband's bride. Her
life was full of gentleness and charity, and all folk blessed her. But
never in all these years spake she aught to any one of the fair velvet
skin; and through all the years that skin lay hid in the hollow of the
oak-tree, where the raven croaked and croaked and croaked.
At last upon a time a malady fell upon Persis, and a strange light came
into her eyes, and naught they did was of avail to her. One day she
called Harold to her, and said: "My beloved, the time draweth near when
we twain must part. I pray thee, send for the holy man, for I would
fain be baptized in thy faith and in the faith of our children." So
Harold fetched the holy man, and Persis, the daughter of the Pagan
king, was baptized, and she spake freely and full sweetly of her love
to Jesus Christ, her Saviour, and she prayed to be taken into his rest.
And when she was baptized, there was given to her the name of Ruth,
which was most fairly done, I trow, for soothly she had been the friend
of all.
Then, when the holy man was gone, she said to her husband: "Beloved, I
beseech thee go to yonder oak-tree, and bring me from the hollow
thereof the fair velvet skin that hath lain therein so many years."
Then Harold marvelled, and he cried: "Who told thee that the fair
velvet skin was hidden there?"
"The raven told me all," she answered; "and had I been so minded I
might have left thee long ago,--thee and our little ones. But I loved
thee and them, and the fair velvet skin hath been unseen of me."
"And wouldst thou leave us now?" he cried. "Nay, it shall not be!
Thou shalt not see that fair velvet skin, for this very day will I cast
it into the sea!"
But she put an arm about his neck and said: "This night, dear one, we
part; but whether we shall presently be joined together in another life
I know not, neither canst thou say; for I, having been a Pagan and the
daughter of a Pagan king, may by my birth and custom have so grievously
offended our true God that even in his compassion and mercy he shall
not find pardon for me. Therefore I would have thee fetch--since I
shall die this night and do require of thee this last act of
kindness--I would have thee fetch that same fair velvet skin from
yonder oak-tree, and wrap me therein, and bear me hence, and lay me
upon the green holm by the farther haven, for this is dancing night,
and the seal-folk shall come from the sea as is their wont. Thou shalt
lay me, so wrapped within that fair velvet skin, upon that holm, and
thou shalt go a space aside and watch throughout the night, coming not
anear me (as thou lovest me!) until the dawn breaks, nor shalt thou
make any outcry, but thou shalt wait until the night is sped. Then,
when thou comest at daybreak to the holm, if thou findest me in the
fair velvet skin thou shalt know that my sin hath been pardoned; but if
I be not there thou may'st know that, being a Pagan, the seal-folk have
borne me back into the sea unto my kind. Thus do I require of thee;
swear so to do, and let thy beloved bless thee."
So Harold swore to do, and so he did. Straightway he went to the
oak-tree and took from the hollow thereof the fair velvet skin; seeing
which deed, the raven flew away and was never thereafter seen in these
islands. And with a heavy heart, and with full many a caress and word
of love, did Harold bind his fair wife in that same velvet skin, and he
bore her to his boat, and they went together upon the waters; for he
had sworn so to do. His course unto the haven lay as before over the
waters that stole in between the two islands from the great troubled
sea beyond. Fair shone the moon, and the night was passing fair; the
shadows lay asleep, like little weary children, in the valleys, and the
waters moaned, and the winds rebuked the white fingers that stretched
up from the waves to clutch them. And when they were come to the inner
shore of the haven, Harold took his wife and bore her up the bank and
laid her where the light came down from the moon and slept full sweetly
upon the fragrant sward. Then, kissing her, he went his way and sat
behind the Stennis stones a goodly space beyond, and there he kept his
watch, as he had sworn to do.
Now wit ye well a grievous heavy watch it was that night, for his heart
yearned for that beloved wife that lay that while upon the fair green
holm,--ay, never before had night seemed so long to Harold as did that
dancing night when he waited for the seal-folk to come where the
some-time Pagan princess lay wrapped in the fair velvet skin. But
while he watched and waited, Membril, the fairy queen, came and brought
others of her kind with her, and they made a circle about Harold, and
threw around him such a charm that no evil could befall him from the
ghosts and ghouls that in their shrouds walked among those bloody
stones and wailed wofully and waved their white arms. For Membril,
coming to Harold in the similitude of a glow-worm, made herself known
to him, and she said and she sung:
Loving heart, be calm a space
In this gloomy vigil place;
Though these confines haunted be
Naught of harm can come to thee--
Nothing canst thou see or hear
Of the ghosts that stalk anear,
For around thee Membril flings
Charms of Fay and fairy rings.
Nothing daunted was Harold by thoughts of evil monsters, and naught
recked he of the uncanny dangers of that haunted place; but he
addressed these words to Membril and her host, and he said and he sung:
Tell me if thy piercing eyes
See the inner haven shore.
There my Own Beloved lies,
With the cowslips bending o'er:
Speed, O gentle folk of Fay!
And in guise of cowslips say
I shall love my love for aye!
Even so did Membril and the rest; and presently they returned, and they
brought these words unto Harold, saying and singing them:--
We as cowslips in that place
Clustered round thy dear one's face,
And we whispered to her there
Those same words we went to bear;
And she smiled and bade us then
Bear these words to thee again:
"Die we shall, and part we may,--
Love is love and lives for aye!"
Then of a sudden there was a tumult upon the waters, as if the waters
were troubled, and there came up out of the waters a host of seals that
made their way to the shore and cast aside their skins and came forth
in the forms of men and of women, for they were the drowned folk that
were come, as was their wont, to dance in the moonlight upon the fair
green holm. At that moment the waters stretched out their white
fingers and struck the kale and the pebbles and the soft moss upon the
beach, for they sought to make music for the seal-folk to dance
thereby; but the music that was made was not merry nor gleeful, but was
passing gruesome and mournful. And presently the seal-folk came where
lay the wife of Harold wrapped in the fair velvet skin, and they knew
her of old, and they called her by what name she was known to them,
"Persis! Persis!" over and over again, and there was great wailing
among the seal-folk for a mighty space; and the seal-folk danced never
at all that night, but wailed about the wife of Harold, and called
"Persis! Persis!" over and over again, and made great moan. And at
last all was still once more, for the seal-folk, weeping and clamoring
grievously, went back into the sea, and the sea sobbed itself to sleep.
Mindful of the oath he swore, Harold dared not go down to that shore,
but he besought Membril, the queen of Fay, to fetch him tidings from
his beloved, whether she still lay upon the holm, or whether the
seal-folk had borne her away with them into the waters of the deep.
But Membril might not go, nor any of her host, for already the dawn was
in the east and the kine were lowing on yonder slope. So Harold was
left alone a tedious time, until the sun looked upon the earth, and
then, with clamoring heart, Harold came from the Stennis stones and
leapt downward to the holm where his beloved had lain that weary while.
Then he saw that the fair velvet skin was still there, and presently he
saw that within the skin his beloved still reposed. He called to her,
but she made no answer; with exceeding haste he kneeled down and did
off the fair velvet skin, and folded his beloved to his breast. The
sun shone full upon her glorious face and kissed away the dew that
clung to her white cheeks.
"Thou art redeemed, O my beloved!" cried Harold; but her lips spake
not, and her eyes opened not upon him. Yet on the dead wife's face was
such a smile as angels wear, and it told him that they should meet
again in a love that knoweth no fear of parting. And as Harold held
her to his bosom and wailed, there fell down from her hand what she had
kept with her to the last, and it lay upon the fair green holm,--the
little alabaster cross which she had snatched from Theodoric's neck
that day the Death-Angel bore the child away.
It was to tell of Harold, the son of Egbert, the son of Ib, and of
Persis, his wife, daughter of the Pagan king; and it hath been told.
And there is no more to tell, for the tale is ended.
[1] Orkney Folk-Lore.