_George Philip Krapp_
In the days of Uther, the father of King Arthur, there lived a knight
in England who was a member of the famous Round Table, and his name
was Sir Cleges. Of all his knights none was dearer to King Uther than
Sir Cleges. There was nothing strange in this, for everybody loved Sir
Cleges, both because he was brave and good and cheerful, and, above
all, because he was so generous. No poor man ever came to Sir Cleges
in vain. He was always ready to help those upon whom sickness or the
waste of war or any other misfortune had fallen, and far and wide he
was known as the poor man’s friend. And not only was Sir Cleges known
for his charity to the poor, but he was famous also for his generosity
toward those of his own rank and station in life. His hall and his
chambers were always filled with guests, and his tables were always
spread for those who were hungry. There was no lack of the very best
food and drink in Sir Cleges’ house, and when good food and drink are
to be found, you may be sure there will be plenty of friends to enjoy
them.
Thus Sir Cleges and his fair wife, the Lady Clarys, kept open house
with the most generous hospitality. Most of all at Christmas-time there
were great feasting and merriment in Sir Cleges’ castle. From every
corner of England the knights and their ladies gathered there, and so
cheerful and kind were Sir Cleges and Lady Clarys, and so abundant was
the fare provided for all comers, that you might have searched all
through King Uther’s kingdom and not have found any Christmas feasting
happier or more cheerful than that under Sir Cleges’ roof.
Thus for many years Sir Cleges lived in this generous fashion, and
never thought of his money except as a means whereby he could help the
needy or give pleasure to his friends. But there is always an end even
to the longest purse, and, as time went on and as Sir Cleges’ friends
grew more numerous, it took more and more to entertain them. All the
money he had, Sir Cleges spent freely; and when his money was gone, he
sold his cattle and other goods to keep up his household. But this was
soon used, and after that Sir Cleges’ lands went the same way as his
money and his cattle. As long as he had a penny left, said Sir Cleges,
no friend should know the lack of it. But at last, when Sir Cleges
had nothing more to sell and nothing in which the swarm of friends
who had gathered about him could find their pleasure and profit, then
straightway they heartlessly left him.
Thus the good Sir Cleges, who had never thought of his own welfare, but
had spent all his substance in order that others might be comfortable
and happy, now found himself deserted as soon as he had nothing more to
give. He was no longer able to appear at King Uther’s court, and he who
had been one of the merriest and best loved of the knights of the Round
Table dropped quietly out of sight and soon was altogether forgotten.
With his wife and his children, Sir Cleges went to live in the one
poor house that was left to him, and there in poverty and obscurity he
strove to forget the fickle friends who had so readily forsaken him.
Now it happened some years after this that King Uther decided to spend
the Christmas-tide at the royal castle of Cardiff, which stood not far
from Sir Cleges’ humble dwelling. Great preparations were made for the
Christmas feasting, and invitations were sent out to all the brave
knights of the kingdom. On Christmas eve all the knights and their
ladies were come together at Cardiff, and then the feasting began in
earnest. The cooks and the servers ran hither and thither, and all
was excitement and bustle. In the great hall, there were tumblers and
dancers and magicians to amuse the Christmas feasters with their tricks
and gamboling. Singers and minstrels of all kinds had been summoned,
and the music of the pipes and trumpets and bugles was heard far and
wide. Nothing was spared that might help to make the time speed rapidly
and joyously for all the assembled knights and their ladies.
In his little house not far away, Sir Cleges heard the sounds of
rejoicing in the great hall of the castle, and it made him sad and
bitter. He had not been invited to the feasting, for long since he had
been forgotten and none of his old friends troubled to inquire whether
he was dead or living. “Many a happy day,” said Sir Cleges, to the
Lady Clarys, “have I given to those who reck not now of my sorrow.”
But the Lady Clarys would not allow Sir Cleges to dwell on thoughts
of unkindness, and bade him consider how much they still had to be
grateful for, and thus little by little she comforted him and brought
him again to contentment.
Thus the Christmas eve Sir Cleges and the Lady Clarys spent quietly in
their humble cottage, and found such pleasure in the innocent joys and
playfulness of their happy children that they had no longing for the
noisy revelry of the courtiers in the castle of Cardiff.
The next day was Christmas day, and, with good will in their hearts
for all men, Sir Cleges and the Lady Clarys went to the church to give
thanks for their many blessings. Now after the church was over, Sir
Cleges walked in his garden; and after a time he knelt down to pray
beneath a cherry-tree that stood in the midst of the garden. As Sir
Cleges knelt, praying, he suddenly felt a bough of the tree striking
him on the head, and, seizing hold of it and springing to his feet, lo,
what was his astonishment to see the bough covered with green leaves
and full of cherries--red, ripe, and luscious! Picking one of the
cherries, Sir Cleges put it into his mouth, and it seemed to him he
had never tasted anything so delicious. Gathering more of the fruit, he
ran into the house and cried out, “Behold, Dame Clarys, what a marvel
is here!” And when the Lady Clarys had come she could hardly believe
her eyes. “Cherries at Christmas-time!” she exclaimed. “How can such
a thing be!” And when Sir Cleges had told her how he had been praying
beneath the tree, how he had felt a bough striking him on the head,
and how, when he took hold of it, he had found it filled with green
leaves and ripe fruit, then the Lady Clarys believed that the cherries
were real, and great was her wonder at the marvel which had happened in
their little garden.
“Now hast thou indeed,” she said, “a present fit for a king! No longer
grieve that thou hast no Christmas offering for the good King Uther,
for cherries such as these I doubt he has ever seen.”
And then the Lady Clarys counseled Sir Cleges to gather the cherries
and to put them in a basket and bear them straightway as a present to
the king. And Sir Cleges, glad at heart that even in his poverty he
could do something to add to the joy of the king’s Christmas feasting,
readily consented so to do.
To Cardiff Castle Sir Cleges took his way, and on his arm he bore the
basket of the wonderful fruit. It was just dinner-time when Sir Cleges
reached the castle gate, and all the court were about to sit down to
meat. But when the porter at the gate saw the poverty-stricken man
with a basket on his arm approaching to enter, he drove him away with
scorn and reviling.
“Begone, old beggar,” he said, “with thy rags and thy tatters! What
have such as thou to do entering kings’ castles? Let me see the last of
thee, or thou shalt not soon forget where thou belongest.”
“Pray let me through the gate, good porter,” answered Sir Cleges, to
this greeting. “I have here in this basket a Christmas present for the
king.”
“Thou a Christmas present for the king! A likely story, in sooth! Show
me what thou hast in thy basket that thou thinkest worthy a king.”
And then, when Sir Cleges lifted the cover of the basket and showed him
the cherries, he was surprised almost beyond speech. “Heaven defend
us!” he exclaimed; “cherries at Christmas-time! How can such a thing
be? Certainly this is a present worthy a king. But listen, old man,”
said he, greedily, “thou shalt not pass through this gate unless thou
dost promise to give me a third of the reward which the king shall give
for the present thou bringest.” And Sir Cleges, seeing no other way
of passing the gate, promised the porter that one third of the reward
should be his.
Now after Sir Cleges had passed by the porter, he thought all would be
well; but no sooner had he reached the door of the hall than he was met
by the usher, who forbade him to go in.
“Out with thee, old fellow!” he exclaimed. “How cam’st thou here? This
is no place for beggars and basket-men such as thou.”
Then when Sir Cleges said he had a present in his basket for the king,
the usher, like the porter, must see what the present could be.
“Holy Saint Peter!” he gasped, when Sir Cleges had lifted the cover of
the basket. “Cherries at Christmas-time! How can such a thing be?”
But he soon recovered from his surprise and told Sir Cleges he might
go in, but only if he promised that one third of the reward which the
king gave him should come to him. And Sir Cleges, thinking how hard it
was to do even a kindness to a king, must needs promise as he had done
before.
When Sir Cleges entered the great hall all was bright and merry there.
The knights and the ladies of King Uther’s court, all decked in their
finest feathers and silks, were about to sit down to the banquet. The
serving-men went scurrying back and forth from the kitchen, bearing
platters of rich food for the king’s feasters and stumbling over each
other in their excitement and hurry. The table was hardly able to
carry everything they wanted to put upon it. There were great haunches
of venison, and roast swans and geese and ducks and pheasants by the
dozen. At each end, there stood a huge pasty almost as big around as a
cart wheel. The king’s cooks had used all their art in concocting cakes
and pies and puddings, to say nothing of the sweetmeats of marchpane
molded into the forms of towers and castles, or of knights on
horseback, or baskets of fruit and flowers, and various other fanciful
and astonishing structures. Everybody’s mouth was watering, but the
king was not yet ready to sit down to the feasting, and the courtiers
and their ladies stood chatting and laughing merrily with one another.
All were too busy to pay any heed to the shabby Sir Cleges, with the
basket on his arm, until the watchful eye of the king’s haughty steward
happened to fall upon him. Horrified to see such a melancholy figure
in the midst of so gay a company, he hastened up to Sir Cleges and was
hustling him out of the hall with short ceremony before Sir Cleges
managed to say that he had a present for the king.
“Beggars are not givers,” said the steward; “but show me, what is the
present thou dost bring?”
Then, when Sir Cleges had lifted the cover of the basket and had shown
him the cherries, he was no less surprised than the others had been,
nor was he less greedy.
“Cherries at Christmas!” he exclaimed. “Whoever heard of such a thing?
But listen, sir,” said he, in a low voice, “thou speakest not with the
king unless thou promise me one third of the reward he gives thee.”
When Sir Cleges heard these words he thought to himself: “Little enough
am I to get out of this. If I have a dinner for my pains, it’s as much
as I may look for.” But he said nothing until the steward prodded him
again, and then, seeing that there was no other way of getting by this
greedy officer, he promised him a third of his reward, as he already
had done to the porter and the usher.
At last the way was free for Sir Cleges; and with his precious basket,
he made his way through the throng of the courtiers to the place where
the king was seated on a dais.
“Receive, O King,” said he, falling on his knees before King Uther,
“this Christmas offering from one of thy most humble subjects.”
And when King Uther looked into the basket and saw that it was filled
with luscious red cherries, he too, like the Lady Clarys, could hardly
believe his eyes.
“Cherries at Christmas!” he cried. “Now certainly this is a marvel, and
a right worthy gift thou has brought to us, good fellow.” Then when he
had tasted one of the cherries he declared a better cherry he had never
eaten. And then he gave some to each of the knights and ladies; and
they all wondered greatly to see such fruit at that bleak season.
“The king’s thanks hast thou won,” said Uther to Sir Cleges, “for thou
hast made this Christmas feasting forever memorable. But sit thou now
at our table and have part in our dinner, and afterward thou shalt have
whatever reward for thy gift that thou askest.”
Then he motioned to the haughty steward to make a place for Sir Cleges;
and certainly a strange figure this shabby knight made among all the
gay lords and their ladies. Little they thought that this humble
stranger had once bestowed benefit upon many a one of them, and little
heed they paid to one whom they took to be but a poor old gardener! But
Sir Cleges said nothing, and sat quietly at the table, to his heart’s
content enjoying all the good things the king had provided for his
Christmas dinner. And though the best cooks of the land had shown there
all their skill and cunning, nothing at that feast was so wonderful as
the cherries which had been brought by the humble stranger.
Now when the dinner was over, the king had not forgotten the poor man
who had brought him the unexpected present, and summoning Sir Cleges to
him, he bade him ask whatever reward he would in return for his welcome
present. Then Sir Cleges bethought himself of the promises he had made
to the porter, the usher, and the steward, and he said:
“Lord, King, this is the reward I ask: twelve strokes of this good
staff that I bear in my hand, to be delivered on whomsoever it may
please me within this royal castle.”
“A strange fellow art thou!” answered the king, in astonishment at
this; “and from thy looks, thou hadst done better to ask for something
more worthy my giving. But, since it is thy request, thou shalt not
find the king fail of his promise. Take thy strokes and deliver them as
thou see’st fit.”
“Thanks for thy boon, King Uther,” answered Sir Cleges; “none other
shall please me so well as this one.”
And then, turning to the steward in the hall, with his staff Sir
Cleges gave him a blow on the shoulders that made him bend double.
“Three more thou gettest,” he said, “for that is the full share coming
to thee!”
And with a right good will Sir Cleges gave the three strokes, and left
the proud steward groaning with pain and terror. Then to the hall door
Sir Cleges made his way and delivered another four, no less hearty and
stinging, on the shoulders of the astonished usher.
“There, thou hast thy share!” said Sir Cleges, as he hastened to the
gateway.
The porter greeted him eagerly, but he little guessed what was coming.
Four times Sir Cleges lifted his staff and let it fall with all his
might on the back of the greedy porter. And this last third of Sir
Cleges’ boon you can be sure was not less light than the others had
been.
When Sir Cleges had thus delivered the three thirds of the reward for
his present, he found at his elbow a messenger from the king, who bade
him return to the great hall of the castle. All the courtiers and the
king were still there and were listening to a song the minstrel was
singing. Now this song, as it happened, was made about Sir Cleges
himself, and the minstrel was telling how this generous knight had
spent all his days making other people happy and now was altogether
lost and forgotten.
“Poor Sir Cleges!” sighed the king, “I loved him well, but alas! I have
no hope ever again to see him.”
Just then, however, Sir Cleges knelt down before the king and thanked
him for the reward he had given him, and told him that the twelve
strokes had been duly delivered.
“But I beseech thee, good fellow,” answered the king, “tell me what the
meaning of this may be. Why were these strokes on the shoulders of my
varlets more pleasing to thee than a reward of gold or silver?”
Then Sir Cleges told the king how the porter, the usher, and the
steward had each demanded a third of his reward before they would
permit him to make his present, and he added, “May they learn thus to
be more free in giving and less greedy in demanding. Perchance the next
poor man may not find it so hard to come into the king’s presence.”
When the king and his courtiers heard all this, they laughed, and were
delighted with the story.
“Well done,” said the king, “thou wielder of the staff! Thou hast
taught these knaves a good lesson. How now, master steward, how likest
thou thy share of this fellow’s present?”
“May the fiends burn him in flames below!” muttered the steward, as he
rubbed the bruises on his shoulders.
Now the king was so pleased with all these happenings that had made
his Christmas feasting so merry that he turned again to Sir Cleges and
asked him what his name was.
“My name, sire,” answered the poverty-stricken knight, “is one not
unknown to thee in the days of old. My name is Sir Cleges.”
“What!” exclaimed the king, “art thou the long-lost Sir Cleges whom men
to this day praise for his good deeds and his charity?” And so moved
with joy was the good King Uther to find his old friend again that he
came down from his high seat and took him by the hand and could not
make enough of him. When the courtiers saw how things were going, they
all flocked around Sir Cleges claiming his friendship and acquaintance.
But the king did not stop with kind words. He knew that a knight with
a heart as true and loyal as the heart of Sir Cleges was not easily to
be found, even among the knights of the Round Table, and now he was
determined never again to lose him. So he gave to him the good castle
of Cardiff to dwell in and other lands and fees wherewith he might live
worthily.
Thus ended the king’s Christmas feasting in the castle of Cardiff, and
a happy day it was for the knight Sir Cleges and the Lady Clarys. Many
a long year they lived in the noble castle the king had given them, and
you may be sure that no selfish porters or ushers or stewards stood at
the gates and doorways to stop any poor man who would enter there.
[21] Reprinted by permission of the author and “St. Nicholas Magazine.”