cared for nothing but the kiss--he let his steed go, and presently it
came to a standstill before his father's grave. There he dismounted and
turned the horse adrift. As if its errand was completed, it galloped
off; a rainbow came down to meet it, and, closing in, seemed to snatch
it up in its folds. Ivan was alone before his father's grave.
Once more he bowed himself in prayer. Once more his father appeared
before him.
'Thou hast done well, O my son,' he said. 'Thou hast fulfilled my dying
wish, but my living wish is yet to be fulfilled. To-morrow Helena the
Fair will summon the people and demand her bridegroom. Be thou there,
but say nothing.'
With this Ivan found himself alone.
On the following day there was a great gathering at the palace, and, in
the midst of it, sat Princess Helena the Fair demanding her
bridegroom--the one who had leapt to her lips and won her from all
others. Her heart and soul and body were his. The half of her kingdom to
come was his. She, herself, was his;--where was he?
Search was made among the highest in the land, but, fearing a demand for
the repetition of the leap and the kiss, none came forward. Ivan sat at
the back, a humble spectator.
'She is thinking of that leap and that kiss,' said he to himself. 'When
she sees me as I am, then let her judge.' But love, though blind, has
eyes. The Princess rose from her seat and swept a glance over the
people. She saw the two handsome elder brothers and passed them by as so
much dirt. Then, by the light of love, she descried, sitting in a
corner, where the lights were low, the hero of the chestnut horse,--the
one who had leapt high and reached her lips in the first sweet kiss of
love.
She knew him at once, and, as all looked on in wonder, she made her way
to that dim corner, took him by the hand without a word, and led him up,
past the throne of honour, to an antechamber, where, with the joyous
cries of the people ringing in their ears, their lips met a second
time,--at the summit of a leap of joy.
At that moment the King entered, knowing all.
'What is this?' said he.
Then he smiled, for he understood his daughter, and knew that she had
not only chosen her lover, but had won her choice.
'My son,' he added, without waiting for an answer, 'you and yours will
reign after me. Look to it! Now let us go to supper.'
THE QUEEN OF THE MANY-COLOURED BEDCHAMBER
AN IRISH FAIRY TALE
One day in the long ago, the sun shone down upon a green wood whose
mightiest trees have since rotted at the bottom of the ocean, where the
best masts find a grave. While the sunlight slept on the bosom of the
foliage, a horseman galloped in the shade beneath. The great chief Fion,
son of Cumhail, was looking for his knights, whom he had outstripped in
the hunt.
He reined in his steed in a broad glade, and blew his bugle loud and
clear. Beside the echoes repeated among the hillsides, there was no
answering call. He rode on, pausing now and again to blow another and
another bugle-blast, but always with the same result.
At length the wood grew more scattered, and presently he came out upon a
stretch of plain where the grass was so green that it looked like
emerald; and beyond it in the distance, at the end of the sloping plain,
he could see the seashore, and the ocean rising like a wall of sapphire
up to the farthest horizon.
Down by the shore he could see figures moving, and, thinking that his
knights had found their way thither, he rode like the wind down the
long, gentle slope towards them. As he drew nearer and nearer, he saw
that there were twelve of them, and they were playing at ball. By the
mighty strokes they gave with the _coman_ he guessed that these were the
twelve sons of Bawr Sculloge, for none but them could drive the ball so
high and far. Tremendous were their strokes, and, when they ran after
the ball, they outstripped the wind.
As Fion drew rein and dismounted, they stopped their play; and, drawing
near, welcomed him loudly as the helper of the weak, and the protector
of the green island against the white-faced stranger.
When he had returned their greeting, they invited him to join them in
their game--if such an amusement was agreeable to him.
'Fion, son of Cumhail,' said one, 'here, take my _coman_ and wipe away
the vanity and conceit of all comers, for we are practising for a great
contest.'
Fion took the _coman_ and looked at it, holding it up between his finger
and thumb.
'I doubt if I could do much good with this plaything,' said Fion; 'it
would break at first blow if I were to strike at all hard.'
'Never let that stand in the way,' returned the other. 'Wait!'
He then searched upon the ground among the blades of grass, and at
length found a nettle, which he pulled up by the roots. Having breathed
a charm over it, he passed it three times from one hand to the other,
and lo, it was changed into a mighty _coman_, fit for the hand of Fion,
son of Cumhail.
Then they were amazed at his terrific blows. The ball, struck by Fion,
soared almost out of sight in the sky, and fell to earth far off. But,
each time, the fleet-footed sons of Bawr Sculloge retrieved it.
At last Fion bared his arm to the shoulder, and, with a final blow, sent
the ball out of sight. None saw it go; none saw it fall. They all stood
and looked at each other.
'My hand on it,' said the eldest son of Bawr, advancing to Fion. 'I live
to admit that I never saw the game played till to-day.'
As they were speaking, a voice hailed them; and, turning seawards, they
saw a small boat approaching. As soon as it touched the beach, a man
sprang ashore, and hastened towards them.
'Hail! Fion, son of Cumhail!' he cried. 'You are known to me, though not
I to you. My lady, the Queen of Sciana Breaca, lays a knight's task upon
you. Hasten forthwith, and have speech with her on her island. The hand
of Flat Ear the Witch is upon her, and her chiefs have advised her to
summon you to her aid.'
'I know it,' replied Fion. 'The Salmon of Wisdom, which comes up from
the sea, breeds knowledge in my brain. I know what is passing in all the
islands, but I fear that my efforts against witchcraft would be
unavailing. Nevertheless, I will try. I will choose, from the twelve
sons of Bawr Sculloge, three that I need, and together we will follow
you to the island.'
'But, noble chief, you have no boat here, and mine will hold only one
other beside myself.'
'Let not that trouble you,' replied Fion. 'I will provide a boat for us
four, and we will follow you.'
With this he selected from the twelve sons the three that he needed.
They were Chluas, Grunne, and Bechunach. Then he plucked two twigs of a
witch hazel that grew near by, and they all proceeded to the beach.
There he held the two twigs out over the water, and, in a moment, the
one became a boat and the other a mast with sail set. He sprang in and
the three followed, and presently they were speeding over the sea,
setting their course by that of the stranger in his boat.
They sailed for many hours before they came to the island of the Queen
of the Many-coloured Bedchamber. There they passed between high rocks,
and entered a quiet harbour, where they moored their boat to a stout
pillar and set a seal upon the fastening, forbidding any but themselves
to loose it for the space of one year, for they knew not how long their
quest would last. Then they went up into the palace of the Queen.
They were gladly welcomed and treated with the most generous
hospitality. When they had eaten and drank, the Queen led them into a
vast bedchamber decorated in the form and manner of the rainbow. Over
the ceiling were the seven colours in their natural order. Round the
walls they ranged themselves in the same fashion, and even the carpet
itself was formed of seven hues to correspond. If the rainbow itself had
been caught and tied up in a room, the effect could not have been more
remarkable. It was indeed a many-coloured bedchamber!
Taking Fion by the hand, the Queen led them all into a corner of the
bedchamber, where she pointed to a little cot in which a child lay
sleeping.
'I had three children,' she said as she stood at the head of the cot,
while Fion and the others gathered round. 'When the eldest was a year
old it was carried off by that wicked witch, Flat Ear. The next year,
when the second one was twelve months old, it suffered the same fate.
And now my youngest here, who is twelve months old to-day, has fallen
sick, and I fear to lose him in the same manner. This very night the
witch will surely come and snatch my child away unless you can prevent
her.'
'Take comfort, fair Queen,' said Fion. 'We will do our best. If you will
leave this chamber to us we will watch over your child and see that it
comes to no harm. And, if it be possible to capture the witch, depend
upon it we shall do so. Too long she has worked her wickedness upon
these lands.'
The Queen thanked him and withdrew. Soon the sun was set, and, as the
child slept on and the shadows gathered, Fion and the three brothers set
their watch in the Many-coloured Bedchamber. Presently servants came in
and set wine before them--honey-mead and Danish beer, and metheglin and
sweet cakes. And, while they regaled themselves, the servants brought
chessmen and a board, and Grunne and Bechunach played chess while Fion
and Chluas watched by the bedside.
Hours passed while the two chess-players were absorbed in their game and
the other two kept watch and ward. Then, towards midnight, while Fion
was alert and wakeful, he saw Chluas sink his chin on his breast,
overcome by an unnatural sleep. Thrice Chluas strove to rouse himself,
but thrice he sank into a deeper sleep.
'Wake up, Chluas!' cried Grunne, as Bechunach was considering his next
move. 'Wake up! We have a pledge to keep.'
Chluas roused himself. 'Yes, yes,' he said; 'we have a pledge to keep.'
And then his chin sank gradually on his breast again, and he was once
more a victim to the same unnatural sleep.
'Let him alone,' said Fion. 'I will watch.'
And the two brothers went on with their game of chess.
Suddenly a chill wind swept through the bedchamber. The fire in the
grate flickered, and the candles burned low: the child in the cot
stirred and moaned.
'See that!' said Fion in a hoarse whisper, pointing to the fireplace.
They turned and looked. It was a long, lean, bony hand reaching down the
chimney and groping in the direction of the cot. The fingers were spread
out and crooked, all ready to clutch. Slowly the long arm lengthened and
drew near the cot. It was about to snatch the child, when Fion darted
forward and seized it in an iron grip.
There was a violent struggle, for Fion had the arm of the witch in his
powerful grasp. He held on so masterfully that the witch, in her frantic
efforts to draw it away, fell down the chimney, rolled across the fire,
struck Fion a terrific blow on the temple with her other hand, and then,
falling on top of his unconscious body, lay still, her shoulder torn and
bleeding.
Grunne and Bechunach quickly ran to Fion's aid, and, leaving the witch
for dead, quickly withdrew his body and restored him to consciousness.
Then, when they turned to see to the witch, they found that both she and
the child had vanished.
They sprang to their feet and roused Chluas roughly. But he sank to
sleep again immediately.
'What shall we do?' they all asked of Fion.
'Follow!' said he; 'follow where I lead. Grunne, pick up your bow and
arrows; Bechunach, knot your ladder of cords. Follow me, both of you.
Leave Chluas sleeping: he is not in his body; his spirit goes with us,
and we cannot do without it.'
So Grunne gathered up his bow and arrows and Bechunach his rope, and the
three, leaving the body of Chluas like dead wood, went forth to seek the
witch.
They came to the seashore, loosed their boat, sped across the harbour
and out between the high rocks. Then, guided by the loosed spirit of the
sleeping Chluas, they sped forward on the ocean, driven by a freshening
breeze. All the while the spirit-light, floating above the waves, led
them on.
It was some two hours before dawn when they descried, in the distance,
the lighted tower of the witch, upon an island. A dull, red flame shot
out from it, and, as it turned for ever on itself, this flame lighted
the sea around like a revolving wheel, clear and red against the
surrounding blackness.
Nearer and nearer they approached it. Then Fion stood up in the boat and
chanted magic spells, raising his arms and sinking them again with
fingers stretched and his palms downwards. Then with a loud cry he
called for sleep to descend on the vile witch of the revolving tower.
Ere yet his cry had died away on the surrounding sea the red light
ceased to revolve. It was still, glaring dully. Then, as the boat
touched the beach beneath the tower, Fion commanded Bechunach to throw
his knotted cord and noose the topmost turret.
It was soon done. The noose caught, and held. And, in another moment,
Bechunach, like a wild cat of the mountain, was climbing up. Fion and
Grunne followed, while the spirit of Chluas, who lay fast asleep in the
Many-coloured Bedchamber, guided and directed their every movement.
They gained a window of the tower and made their way in. Following the
gleam of the dull, red light, they went from room to room, and at last
came to one where it shone clearly through the cracks of the door. They
burst in, and stood aghast on the threshold at the sight that met their
gaze.
There on the floor lay the witch, in a magic sleep, the blood flowing
from her shoulder, torn by Fion in the struggle. And there, around her,
crying bitterly, were the Queen's three children.
Fion stooped down and swept his arm round them, and took them aside and
comforted them. Then he gathered the youngest to his breast, and,
directing Grunne and Bechunach to see to the other two, he led the way
to the window.
In a very short time they had all climbed down the rope ladder and were
speeding away in the boat. But, as they left the island, the spell was
released. The tower, with its wheel of red light, began again to revolve
upon the waters, and they heard the witch's shriek of rage as she awoke
to the pain of her wound, to find the children gone. It came again and
again, that shriek of baffled hate and rage and pain. Then, as they
looked back, they saw a dark form glide down the walls of the tower like
a loathsome thing creeping head downwards. It reached the foot and sped
to the seashore. Then it seemed to loose a boat, and, in another moment,
it was speeding in pursuit of them. Faster and faster over the waves it
came.
'Quick!' cried Fion to Grunne. 'Draw your bowstring to your ear. You
will not miss: the spirit of the sleeper will guide your shaft.'
Grunne fitted an arrow to his bowstring, and drew it to his ear. Then,
as Fion shot forward his outstretched hands, casting a vivid light from
his finger-tips over the surface of the sea, the arrow sped with a twang
and a whiz.
A terrible cry came back across the water. The witch, struck to the
heart, threw up her arms, and, falling from her boat, sank in the sea.
Fion put down his hands, and then all was dark, save for a dull red
light which flickered and played above the spot where the witch had
sunk; and they sped on.
Now they neared the harbour, and saw a multitude of people waiting, with
torches waving. When they gained the foothold of the land, with the
three children in their arms, the people raised a mighty cheer. The
Queen heard it and hastened to meet them.
Great was her joy on receiving her three children at the hands of Fion.
And she showered upon him every blessing, entertaining him and his
comrades--the three sons of Bawr Sculloge--for a whole year. And every
year thereafter--lest the deed be forgotten--on the anniversary of the
day she sent a boat laden with gold and silver and precious stones, and
shields and helmets and chess-tables and rich cloaks; and the sons of
Bawr Sculloge invited Fion to join them in high festival on that day,
for they said, 'Such deeds should never be forgotten.'
And, one morning in spring, Fion, son of Cumhail, went into the gardens
and orchards about his palace and plucked many twigs from flowers and
fruit trees, and with these he went down to the seashore. Holding them
above the waves, he recited a spell, and immediately a boat was formed
of the twigs--a trim little craft with sail set.
He sprang in and steered his course for the isle of the Queen of the
Many-coloured Bedchamber. And, as he sped over the waves, the boat began
to bud; and green leaves appeared on the mast, and the spars and stays
put out the growth of spring, till they shone like emerald in the sun.
When he came in sight of the island, the sides of the boat were covered
with blossoms, the mast had put out a wealth of petals, and the sail and
rigging were covered with flowering vines. Then, as he passed between
the high rocks and entered the harbour, the watchers on shore saw a boat
approaching, splendid with summer flowers, and on its mast were
spreading branches dropping down with luscious fruit. Nearer and nearer
it came, and, when it touched the shore, Fion sprang out, and bade them
gather the beautiful flowers and the ripe fruit and take them to their
Queen.
And Queen Breaca valued this present more than any other he could have
offered, because the manner of it was beautiful, and a Queen is a woman,
and a woman loves beautiful things above all else.
And Chluas, the sleeper--what reward had he? He claimed none, and none
knows what was his reward. Yet it is said that in the Land of Deep Sleep
there are rewards undreamt of by those who wake.
THE BLUE BIRD
A FRENCH FAIRY TALE
There was once upon a time a King who was tremendously rich both in
money and lands. His wife, the Queen, died, and left him inconsolable.
He shut himself up for eight days in a little room, and banged his head
against the wall so much that it was believed he would kill himself, so
grieved was he at his loss.
All his subjects resolved between themselves to go and see him, and they
did. Some said that he could show his grief in a less painful manner.
Others made speeches grave and serious, but not one of them made any
impression on the widowed King. Eventually there was presented to him a
woman dressed in the deepest mourning, and she cried and moaned so long
and so loud that she caused no little surprise.
She said to the King that she did not like the others coming to ask him
to stay his crying, for nothing was more just than that he should cry
over the loss of a good wife; and that as for her, who once had the very
best of husbands, and had lost him, she would cry for him as long as she
had eyes in her head to cry with; and immediately she let out and
redoubled her sobs, and the King, following her example, did the same.
Each one recounted to the other the good qualities of their dear dead
ones; so much so that at last there was nothing more could be found to
say about their losses and their great sorrow. In the end the widow
lifted her deep veil, and the poor afflicted King gazed at the afflicted
one, who kept turning and turning her great blue eyes with long black
lashes. The King watched her with deep attention; and little by little
he talked less of his lost Queen, until at last he forgot to talk of her
at all.
The widow then said that for ever she would cry and mourn for her
husband, but the King begged her not to go to that limit and immortalise
her sorrow. In the end he astonished her by saying that he would marry
her, and that the black would be changed into green and pink, the colour
of roses. It suffices to say that the King did as the stories tell: did
all that was possible and all that she wished.
Now the King had but one daughter of his first marriage, and she was
considered one of the eight wonders of the world; her name was Florine,
because she resembled a beautiful flower: she was fresh, young and
lovely. She was always dressed in the most beautiful transparent
clothes, and with garlands of flowers in her hair, which made a
beautiful effect. She was only fifteen years old when the King married
again.
The new Queen also had, by her first husband, a daughter, who had been
brought up by her godmother, the fairy Soussio; but she was neither
beautiful nor gracious. The girl's name was Truitonne, because her face
was so like the face of a trout, and her hair was so full of grease that
it was impossible to touch it; and her skin simply ran with oil. But the
Queen did not love her any the less. All she could do was to talk of the
charming Truitonne, and how Florine had all sorts of advantages over
her; and the Queen became desperate, and sought every possible way to
make the King see faults in Florine.
One day the King said to the Queen that Florine and Truitonne were big
enough to marry now, and that the first Prince who came to the court
should have one of the two Princesses in marriage.
'I maintain,' said the Queen, 'that my daughter shall be the one to get
the trousseau; she is the elder, and she is a million times more
amiable, and those are the points that matter, after all.'
The King, who hated disputes, said that it was well, and that she was
her own mistress.
Some time afterwards, news came that Prince Charming had arrived. Never
did a Prince display such gallantry and magnificence; his manner and
looks were in keeping with the name he bore. When the Queen heard of
this handsome Prince she employed all the dressmakers and tailors to
dress Truitonne, and make her presentable, and she begged the King that
Florine should have nothing at all new. Her one thought was to have all
the beautiful clothes ready before the arrival of Prince Charming at
court.
When he came the Queen received him in all pomp and splendour, and
presented to him her daughter more brilliant than the sun, and more ugly
than she was usually, because of all the jewels she had on.
Prince Charming turned away his eyes; the Queen tried to persuade him
that the Princess pleased him very much. But he demanded to know if
there was not another Princess called Florine? 'Yes,' said Truitonne,
pointing with her finger; 'see, there she is, hidden away, because she
is not good.'
Florine reddened, and looked so beautiful, so beautiful, that Prince
Charming forgot himself. He bowed the knee and made a low curtsy to the
Princess. 'Madam,' said he, 'your incomparable beauty is too much; but
for you I should have sought help in a strange land.'
'Seigneur,' replied the Princess, 'I am sorry that I am not dressed in a
proper manner, but I have only my old clothes; yet I thank you for
asking to see me.'
'It would be impossible,' said Prince Charming, 'that any one once
seeing you could have eyes for anything else than so beautiful a
Princess.'
'Ah!' said the Queen, irritated, 'I do well wasting my time listening to
you. Believe me, seigneur, Florine is also a coquette; she does not
deserve that you should be so gallant to her.'
Prince Charming understood the motives of the Queen in speaking of
Florine in this way. He was not in a position to prove the truth, but he
let it be seen that all his admiration was for Florine.
The Queen and Truitonne were very upset to see that he preferred
Princess Florine. So, when Princess Florine left the company of Prince
Charming, the Queen with impatience waited for her to return to her
room. There were hidden four men with masks over their faces, and they
had orders to take the Princess Florine away on a journey, to await the
pleasure of Prince Charming, so that she would please him better and
would make him a better spouse.
The Queen then went to the Prince and told him that the Princess was a
coquette, and had a bad temper; that she tormented the servants, and did
not know how to behave herself; that she was avaricious, and preferred
to be dressed like a little shepherdess rather than like a Princess.
To all this Prince Charming listened. 'But,' said he, 'it would be
impossible for so beautiful and amiable a girl to be all that you say.
How could that be true of one with such modest grace and beauty? even
though she be dressed in a humble little frock. That is not a thing that
touches me very much. It pains me far more to know that the Queen hurts
her feelings, and you are not a stepmother for nothing; and really,
madam, the Princess Truitonne is so ugly that it would be hard to find
anything uglier amongst God's creatures. The courtiers, too, do not look
at all pleased to hear you speak badly of Florine.'
The Queen spent half of the night questioning him, for she could not
believe that he loved Florine. And the poor Princess Florine was
terrified because the four men with masks had taken her far away.