he was stabbed through the heart and fell dead. The sword that killed him
pierced Pastorella's arm, and she, too, fell down in a faint.
When she opened her eyes the robbers who were left had stopped fighting,
and had lighted the candles, and were counting their dead and wounded.
When she saw her dear father and mother and her friends lying cold and
still beside her, she began to sob and cry. As soon as the robbers knew
that she lived, they thrust her back into the darkest of their caves. The
most cruel of all the robbers was her gaoler. He would not allow her to
bind up her wound, and he gave her scarcely anything to eat or to drink.
He would not even let her rest, and so, in pain and hunger and sadness,
Pastorella passed her weary nights and days.
Now when Calidore got back from his hunting, he expected to hear the
shepherds' pipes, and their songs, and the bleating of the sheep, and to
see Pastorella in her dainty gown and with flowers in her golden hair
coming to meet him.
Instead of that, the place which had been so gay was sad and silent. The
cottages were smouldering black ruins, and there was no living creature
there.
Calidore wildly sought everywhere for some trace of Pastorella. But when
he sought her in the woods and called 'Pastorella ... Pastorella ...',
only the trees echoed 'Pastorella.' In the plains he sought her, but they
lay silent and lonely under the stars, and they, too, only echoed
'Pastorella ... Pastorella....'
Week after week he searched for her, until one day he saw a man running
across the plain. The man's hair was standing up on his head as if he were
in a terrible fright, and his clothes were in rags.
When he got near, Calidore saw that it was Corydon.
'Where is Pastorella?' eagerly asked Calidore.
Corydon burst into tears.
'Ah, well-a-day,' he said, 'I saw fair Pastorella die!'
He then told Calidore all about the robbers' raid, and all that had
happened in that dreadful cave. Only one thing he did not know. He did not
know that Pastorella was alive. He had seen her fall down, and he thought
that she was dead.
So Calidore's heart was nearly broken, and he vowed a vow that he would
not rest until he had punished the wicked men who had killed Pastorella.
He made Corydon come with him to show him the way to the robbers' island.
At first Corydon was too frightened to go, but at last Calidore persuaded
him. Together they set off, dressed like shepherds. But although Calidore
carried only a shepherd's crook, under his smock he wore his steel armour.
When at last they had reached the island, they found some sheep grazing,
and knew them for some of those that had belonged to Meliboeus. When
Corydon saw the sheep he had taken care of in the days when he was most
happy, he began to cry.
But Calidore comforted him, and they went on to where some robber
shepherds lay asleep in the shade. Corydon wanted to kill them as they
slept, but Calidore had other plans, and would not let him.
He awoke them, and they talked together. The robbers told him that they
did not care to look after sheep, but liked better to fight and rob and
kill. When Calidore and Corydon said that they would help them to keep the
sheep, the robbers were glad. All day they stayed with the flocks, and at
night the robbers took them home to their dark caves. There Calidore and
Corydon heard news that made them glad, but made Calidore the more glad,
for he loved Pastorella more than Corydon had ever done.
They learned that Pastorella was alive.
And so, day after day, they went on with their work, and waited and
watched for a chance to set Pastorella free.
One night when the robbers had been away all day stealing and killing, and
were all very tired, Calidore knew that the time had come to try to save
Pastorella.
Corydon was too frightened to go with him. So all alone, at dead of night,
Calidore went to the cave where the new robber captain, Pastorella's
gaoler, slept. Calidore had managed to get a little sword belonging to a
robber, but he had nothing else to fight with.
When he came to the cave, he found the door fastened. He put his strong
shoulder against it, and burst the door in. The crash awoke Pastorella's
gaoler, and he ran to see what it was. With one blow of his sword Calidore
killed him. Then he called, till his voice rang through the gloomy cave,
'_Pastorella!_'
Pastorella heard the noise, and lay trembling lest some new dreadful thing
had come upon her. But when, again and again, Calidore called her name,
her heart jumped for joy, and she ran out of the darkness right into her
true knight's arms. And Calidore threw his arms about her, and kissed her
a thousand times.
The robbers had waked up, hearing the crash of the door, and the yell of
the robber as he died, and Calidore's cry of 'Pastorella.' Like a swarm of
angry wasps they flocked to the door of the cave, but in the doorway stood
Calidore with his sword, and slew every man who dared to try to kill him.
He slew and slew until the doorway was blocked with dead bodies. Then
those robbers that still lived were afraid to touch him, and went away to
rest until morning.
Calidore also rested, and when daylight came he found amongst the dead
robbers a better sword than the one he already had, and with that in his
hand he walked out of the cave.
The robbers were lying in wait for him, and rushed at him from every side
when he appeared.
But Calidore was like a lion in a herd of deer. With his sharp sword he
thrust and smote, until the robbers who did not lie dead around him fled
in terror, and hid themselves in their caves.
Then Calidore went back to where he had left Pastorella, and cheered and
comforted her. Together they went through the robbers' caves, and took the
richest of their treasures of gold and precious jewels. All the sheep they
gave to Corydon, who gladly drove them away.
Then Calidore took Pastorella to the castle of one of his friends, a noble
knight, whose gentle wife was called Claribel.
Calidore had to go to hunt the monster that he was pursuing when he first
met the shepherds, so he left Pastorella with the knight and his lady.
Pastorella was so gentle and beautiful that they loved her for her own
sweet sake, as well as for Calidore's, and cared for her as if she was
their own daughter.
An old woman who had always been Claribel's maid was given as maid to
Pastorella.
One morning as this woman helped her to dress, she noticed on Pastorella's
white breast a curious little mark. It was as if some one had painted on
the fair skin a tiny purple rose with open petals. The old woman ran to
her mistress, Claribel.
'Your baby lives!' she cried; 'the little baby I left crying under the
green bushes is the beautiful Pastorella who is to marry Sir Calidore!'
Claribel ran to Pastorella's room, and looked at the little rose, and
asked many questions. And when Pastorella had answered her, she was quite
satisfied that she was indeed the baby-girl for whom her heart had been so
hungry through all those years.
'My daughter, my daughter, that I mourned as dead!' she sobbed, as she
held Pastorella in her arms and kissed her again and again.
When the knight knew that he was Pastorella's father, he was as glad as
Claribel. So they lived happily together until Calidore had slain the
monster and come back to marry Pastorella.
Then instead of Pastorella, the shepherd's daughter, with her little
dainty gown and her wreath of wildflowers, he found a Pastorella in
jewels, and silks, and satins, who was the daughter of a great knight and
his lady, and grand-daughter of the Lord of Many Islands.
Yet the Pastorella who married brave Sir Calidore was evermore Pastorella,
the simplest and sweetest bride that any knight ever brought to the court
of the Faerie Queen.
VI
CAMBELL AND TRIAMOND
Once upon a time a fairy had a lovely daughter called Cambina, and three
sons who were born on the same day.
The eldest son she named Priamond, the second Diamond, and the third
Triamond.
Priamond was very stout and big, but he could not strike hard. Diamond
struck very hard, but he was little and thin. But Triamond was tall and
stout and strong as well.
Priamond used to fight on foot. Triamond fought on horseback. But Diamond
could fight equally well on a horse or off it.
Triamond fought with a spear and shield. Diamond fought with a battle-axe.
But Priamond could fight just as well with an axe as he could with a spear
and shield.
Their fairy mother was so fond and so proud of her gallant sons, that she
could not bear to think of one of them dying.
So she went to see three witches called the Three Fates, who lived in a
dark place underground, and worked at their spinning-wheels day and night.
She asked the Fates to let her sons have long, long lives. That they would
not promise, but they promised that if Priamond died first, all his
strength should go into the other two. And if Diamond should then die, all
his strength and Priamond's were to go into their brother Triamond.
Priamond, Diamond, and Triamond loved each other very dearly. When they
grew up and all fell in love with the same lady, it did not make them less
good friends.
The name of this lady was Canacee. She was very beautiful, and was the
cleverest lady in all that land. She knew all about birds and beasts and
plants and flowers, and was as witty as she was wise.
Many knights wished to marry her, and these knights were so jealous of
each other that they were constantly fighting about her.
Canacee had a brother named Cambell, a wise young knight, who was sorry to
see how often the knights fought with each other about his sister.
One day, when they were all gathered together, Cambell told them that
he had made a plan by which they could decide which of them was to marry
Canacee.
[Illustration: She asked the Fates to let her sons have long, long lives
(page 80)]
'Choose from amongst yourselves,' said he, 'the three knights that you all
think the bravest and the best fighters, and I shall fight them, one by
one. The knight who beats me shall have my sister Canacee for his wife.'
Now all the knights knew that Canacee had given her brother a magic ring,
and that, as long as he wore it, no matter how deep a wound he got, the
wound would not bleed, and he would not die.
'It is very well for Cambell,' they said. 'We cannot kill him, but he can
kill us.'
So they would not fight, even to win Canacee.
But the three brothers, Priamond, Diamond, and Triamond, were not afraid.
'We will fight with you, Cambell,' they said, 'for all of us love
Canacee.'
So a day was fixed for this great fight. On the morning of the day, no
sooner was it light than the three brothers in their shining armour were
ready on the field. Crowds of people came to watch the fight, and there
were six judges to see that the knights fought fairly. Canacee, in a
beautiful dress, sat on a high platform whence she could see all that went
on. When Cambell strode into the field, he looked as if he were quite sure
of defeating all three knights.
Then came Priamond, Diamond, and Triamond, marching together, in splendid
armour, with their gay-coloured banners flying.
They bowed low before Canacee, the lady they loved, and the trumpets
sounded and sweet music played.
Then a trumpet blew loudly, and Cambell and stout Priamond began to fight.
Furiously they struck at each other, and at last Priamond's spear went
through Cambell's shoulder. But although the shoulder was pierced, and the
pain from the wound was terrible, not a single drop of blood fell from it.
So they fought and fought, until Cambell's spear was driven through brave
Priamond's neck. Like a great oak-tree that the storm has struck, Priamond
tottered, then fell with a mighty crash. There, on the ground, he lay
bleeding and dead.
When he died, all his strength passed into his two brothers, as the Three
Fates had promised to his fairy mother.
A second time the trumpet sounded, and slight little Diamond, his
battle-axe in his hand, fiercely rushed at Cambell.
So furiously did they hew and hack at each other, that their armour was
cut and gashed as if it had been rotten wood. No blood flowed from
Cambell's wounds, but Diamond's blood gushed fast, and reddened the green
turf.
Fierce little Diamond grew tired at last of hacking and hewing and yet
never killing Cambell. So he put all his strength into one terrible
stroke, and swung his axe round with all his might. Had the blow reached
Cambell it must have chopped his head in two, but Cambell swerved aside.
Diamond had used so much force, that when he missed his aim his foot
slipped. Cambell took the chance, let drive at him with all his power, and
with his axe cut Diamond's head clean off.
For a moment Diamond's headless body stood still. Then gallant little
Diamond fell dead on the ground. As he fell, all his strength, and the
strength of Priamond, went into Triamond, the youngest brother.
Then Triamond, stronger and more angry than he had ever been before,
lightly sprang up from where he had sat to watch the fight.
His strokes fell like hail on Cambell's armour. He struck, he thrust, he
hewed, he hacked, till the sparks flew from his sword like the shining
drops that are dashed from a waterfall.
Sometimes Triamond seemed to be winning; sometimes Cambell. The blood
gushed from Triamond's wounds, till he grew faint. But although Cambell
was covered with wounds the magic ring stopped his blood from flowing, so
that he grew no less strong. When he saw Triamond growing weak, he smote
him in the throat with all his might, and Triamond fell down as if he were
dead.
But Triamond did not die. From the fearful wound all the strength that had
belonged to his brother Priamond ebbed away. Still he had his own strength
and Diamond's strength left.
So he rose up again, and Cambell, who had thought him dead, was so amazed
that Triamond gave him a hard stroke before he had time to defend himself.
Then Cambell fought with more care, and seemed rather to try to save
himself than to try to kill Triamond. Triamond, seeing this, thought that
Cambell must be tired, and that he could easily beat him now. With that
he whirled up his sword to give a fearful blow. But Cambell, quick as
lightning, thrust his sword under Triamond's upraised arm, so that it
passed right through his body and came out at the other side. Even then
the blow that Triamond struck was such a terrible one, that it cut through
Cambell's steel helmet and gashed open his head, and he fell senseless to
the ground.
Triamond, too, fell down, and out of his wound all Diamond's strength
ebbed away.
When those who looked on saw this, they thought that the fight was at an
end, because the fighters all lay dead.
Canacee began to cry because her brother and the brave knight who loved
her were slain. But in a moment both knights rose to their feet again.
Those who watched could not believe their eyes when they saw them begin to
fight as fiercely as before.
While every one stared in wonder and in fear, because they knew that soon
the knights must surely kill each other, a loud noise suddenly drowned the
clash of weapons.
It was a sound as of women and boys shouting and screaming in a panic.
Cambell and Triamond stopped their fight for an instant to listen and to
look at the place from whence the noise came.
They saw a golden chariot, decked with wonderful ornaments, whirling
towards them with the force of a storm. Two fierce lions drew the chariot,
and in it sat a lady, whose face shone with beauty and goodness.
It was Triamond's sister, Cambina, who knew more about magic than almost
any one else in all Fairyland.
When the crowds who watched saw her and her growling lions, they huddled
together like frightened sheep. Some laughed, most of them screamed, and
all of them ran till the dust flew up in clouds.
In one hand Cambina carried a magic wand with two serpents twisted round
it. In the other she held a golden cup filled with a magic drink, that
made those who drank of it forget all anger and bitterness, and filled
their hearts with happiness and friendship and peace.
When Cambina came to the wooden barrier that shut off the watchers from
the field where the knights had fought, she softly struck the rail with
her wand.
It flew open, and the lions dashed in with Cambina's glittering chariot.
She got out of her chariot and ran up to the two knights, and begged them
to fight no more. But they would not listen, and began to fight again.
Then she knelt on the bloodstained ground, and besought them with tears to
lay down their swords. When they still went fiercely on, she smote them
lightly with her magic wand.
Their swords fell to the ground, and while they stared at each other in
wonder, Cambina handed them her golden cup. They were so hot and thirsty
that they gladly drank. And, as they drank, all anger went out of their
hearts, and love for each other took its place. They kissed, and shook
hands, and vowed that they would be friends for evermore.
When the people saw this, they shouted and cheered for gladness till all
the air rang.
And Canacee ran down from her platform and kissed Cambina, who had stopped
the fearful fight and made Canacee's brother and her lover friends.
Then the trumpets sounded, and Cambina took Canacee into her chariot
beside her, and the lions galloped off to Canacee's palace. And all the
people thought how beautiful were these two lovely ladies, whose faces
were fresh as morning roses and radiant with happiness.
Cambell and Canacee gave a great feast that lasted for days and days.
And Triamond married Canacee, and Cambell married Cambina, and they all
lived happily and peacefully ever afterwards.
VII
MARINELL, THE SEA-NYMPH'S SON
Sometimes when the sun is rising on the sea and making the waves all pink
and gold, the sailors whose boats are sailing out of the grey night fancy
that they see fair ladies floating on the white crests of the waves, or
drying their long yellow hair in the warm sunshine.
Sometimes poets who wander on the beach at night, or sit on the high
cliffs where the sea-pinks grow, see those beautiful ladies playing in the
silver moonlight.
And musicians hear them singing, singing, singing, till their songs
silence the sea-birds harsh cry, and their voices blend with the swish and
the rush of the sea and the moan of the waves on the shore.
The sailors tell stories of them, and the musicians put their songs into
their hearts. But the poets write poems about them, and say:--
'There are no ladies so fair to see as the nymphs whose father is a king.
Nereus is their father, and they are the Nereids.
Their home is under the sea; as blue as the sea are their eyes.
Their long, long hair is yellow like sand.
Their silver voices are like lutes, and they steal men's hearts away.'
Long, long ago, one of these nymphs became the wife of a brave knight, who
found her sleeping amongst the rocks and loved her for her beauty. Cymoënt
was her name, and the other nymphs called her Cymoënt the Black Browed,
because dark lashes and eyebrows shaded her sea-blue eyes.
The knight and the nymph had a son as strong and as brave as his father,
and as beautiful as his mother, and Cymoënt called him Marinell.
'My son must be richer than any of the knights who live on the land,' said
Cymoënt to the king her father. 'Give him riches.'
So the sea-king told the waves to cast on the shore riches that they had
stolen from all the ships that had ever been wrecked. And the waves
strewed the strand with gold and amber and ivory and pearls, and every
sort of jewel and precious stone.
The shore sparkled and shone with Marinell's riches, and no one dared
touch them, for Marinell had beaten a hundred knights in battle, and
fought every man who dared venture to ride along these sands.
Cymoënt feared that as Marinell had won so many fights, he might grow
reckless and get killed. Now Neptune, who was king of all the seas, had a
shepherd who could tell what was going to happen in the future.
'Tell me,' Cymoënt said to him, 'how long my Marinell will live, and from
what dangers he must take most care to keep away.'
'Do not let him go near any women,' said the Shepherd of the Seas. 'I can
see that a woman will either hurt him very much, or kill him altogether.'
So Cymoënt warned her son never to go near any woman. And many ladies were
sad because handsome Marinell would not speak to them, and the lovely lady
Florimell was the saddest of all.
One day as Marinell proudly rode along the glittering sand, he saw a
knight in armour that shone as brightly as the gold that the little waves
had kissed.
'I am Lord of the Golden Strand!' said Marinell angrily, 'how dare the
knight ride on the shore that is all my own!'
He rode furiously up, and told the knight to fly.
But the knight was Britomart, the fair lady with a man's armour and a
man's heart. She scorned his proud words, and smote him with her magic
spear.
And Britomart rode away, leaving Marinell lying as if he were dead.
His red blood stained his armour, and reddened the little waves that crept
up to see what was wrong. The water washed over his feet.
'He is asleep,' said the little waves. 'We will wake him.'
But Marinell lay cold and still, and the blood dripped and dripped on to
the golden sand.
Then the waves grew frightened, and the sea-birds screamed, '_Marinell is
dead, is dead_ ... _dead_ ... _dead_....'
So the news came to his mother Cymoënt. Cymoënt and her sisters were
playing by a pond near the sea, round which grew nodding yellow daffodils.
They were picking the daffodils and making them into garlands for their
fair heads, when they heard the message of the birds, '_Marinell is dead,
dead, dead_.'
Cymoënt tore the daffodils from her hair, and fell on the ground in a
faint. All her sister nymphs wailed and wept and threw their gay flowers
away, and Cymoënt lay with white face, and her head on the poor, torn
daffodils.
[Illustration: But the knight was Britomart, the fair lady with a man's
armour and a man's heart (page 92)]
At last she came out of her faint, and asked for her chariot, and all her
sisters sent for their chariots too.
A team of dolphins drew the chariot of Cymoënt, and they were trained so
well that they cut through the water as swiftly as swallows, and did not
even leave a track of white foam behind. Other fishes drew the chariots of
the other nymphs, and Neptune, King of all the Seas, was so sorry for the
sorrow of Cymoënt and the other Nereids, that he told his waves to be
gentle, and let them pass peacefully to where Marinell lay on the golden
strand.
When they got near where he lay, they got out of their chariots, for they
feared that the dolphins and other fishes might get bruised and hurt by
the rocks and pebbles on the shore. And with their strong white arms they
swiftly swam to where Marinell lay, still and silent in his blood.
When Cymoënt saw her son's white face, she fainted again, and when she had
recovered from her faint, she cried and moaned so bitterly, that even the
hard rocks nearly wept for sorrow.
She and her sisters carefully looked at Marinell's wound, and one of them,
who knew much about healing, felt his pulse, and found that a little life
was still left in him. With their soft, silver-fringed mantles they wiped
the blood from the wound, and poured in soothing balm and nectar, and
bound it up. Then they strewed Cymoënt's chariot with flowers, and lifted
Marinell gently up, and laid him in it. And the dolphins, knowing to go
quietly and swiftly, swam off with Cymoënt and Marinell to Cymoënt's bower
under the sea.
Deep in the bottom of the sea was the bower. It was built of hollow waves,
heaped high, like stormy clouds. In it they laid Marinell, and hastily
sent for the doctor of all the folk under the sea, to come and try to cure
the dreadful wound. So clever and so wise was this doctor, that soon the
nymphs could laugh and sport again because Marinell was well.
But Cymoënt was afraid that some other harm might come to him if he went
on to the land. So she made him stay beside her, under the sea, until
Marinell grew tired of doing nothing. He longed to gallop away on his
horse, his sword clanking by his side, and see the green woods and grey
towers of the land, instead of idling away the hours in a bower under the
sea, where there was nothing for him to do, but to watch the fishes of
silver and blue and red, as they chased each other through the forests of
seaweed.