THE PRINCESS'S KING-PAPA
THE weather continued fine for weeks, and the little princess went out
every day. So long a period of fine weather had indeed never been known
upon that mountain. The only uncomfortable thing was that her nurse was
so nervous and particular about being in before the sun was down, that
often she would take to her heels when nothing worse than a fleecy cloud
crossing the sun threw a shadow on the hillside; and many an evening
they were home a full hour before the sunlight had left the weathercock
on the stables. If it had not been for such behavior, Irene would by
this time have almost forgotten the goblins. She never forgot Curdie,
but him she remembered for his own sake, and indeed would have
remembered him if only because a princess never forgets her debts until
they are paid.
[Illustration: In an instant she was on the saddle, and clasped in his
great strong arms.]
One splendid sunshiny day, about an hour after noon, Irene, who was
playing on a lawn in the garden, heard the distant blast of a bugle. She
jumped up with a cry of joy, for she knew by that particular blast that
her father was on his way to see her. This part of the garden lay on the
slope of the hill, and allowed a full view of the country below. So she
shaded her eyes with her hand, and looked far away to catch the first
glimpse of shining armor. In a few moments a little troop came
glittering round the shoulder of a hill. Spears and helmets were
sparkling and gleaming, banners were flying, horses prancing, and
again came the bugle-blast, which was to her like the voice of her
father calling across the distance, "Irene, I'm coming." On and on they
came, until she could clearly distinguish the king. He rode a white
horse, and was taller than any of the men with him. He wore a narrow
circle of gold set with jewels around his helmet, and as he came still
nearer, Irene could discern the flashing of the stones in the sun. It
was a long time since he had been to see her, and her little heart beat
faster and faster as the shining troop approached, for she loved her
king-papa very dearly, and was nowhere so happy as in his arms. When
they reached a certain point, after which she could see them no more
from the garden, she ran to the gate, and there stood till up they came
clanging and stamping, with one more bright bugle-blast which said,
"Irene, I am come."
By this time the people of the house were all gathered at the gate, but
Irene stood alone in front of them. When the horseman pulled up, she ran
to the side of the white horse, and held up her arms. The king stooped,
and took her hands. In an instant she was on the saddle, and clasped in
his great strong arms. I wish I could describe the king, so that you
could see him in your mind. He had gentle blue eyes, but a nose that
made him look like an eagle. A long dark beard, streaked with silvery
lines, flowed from his mouth almost to his waist, and as Irene sat on
the saddle and hid her glad face upon his bosom, it mingled with the
golden hair which her mother had given her, and the two together were
like a cloud with streaks of the sun woven through it. After he had held
her to his heart for a minute, he spoke to his white horse, and the
great beautiful creature, which had been prancing so proudly a little
while before, walked as gently as a lady--for he knew he had a little
lady on his back--through the gate and up to the door of the house. Then
the king set her on the ground, and, dismounting, took her hand and
walked with her into the great hall, which was hardly ever entered
except when he came to see his little princess. There he sat down with
two of his councillors who had accompanied him, to have some
refreshment, and Irene bestowed herself on his right hand, and drank her
milk out of a wooden bowl curiously carved.
After the king had eaten and drunk, he turned to the princess and said,
stroking her hair--
"Now, my child, what shall we do next?"
This was the question he almost always put to her first after their meal
together; and Irene had been waiting for it with some impatience, for
now, she thought, she should be able to settle a question which
constantly perplexed her.
"I should like you to take me to see my great old grandmother."
The king looked grave, and said--
"What does my little daughter mean?"
"I mean the Queen Irene that lives up in the tower--the very old lady,
you know, with the long hair of silver."
The king only gazed at his little princess with a look which she could
not understand.
"She's got her crown in her bedroom," she went on; "but I've not been in
there yet. You know she's here, don't you?"
"No," said the king very quietly.
"Then it must be all a dream," said Irene. "I half thought it was; but
I couldn't be sure. Now I _am_ sure of it. Besides, I couldn't find her
the next time I went up."
At that moment a snow-white pigeon flew in at an open window and, with a
flutter, settled upon Irene's head. She broke into a merry laugh,
cowered a little and put up her hands to her head, saying--
"Dear dovey, don't peck me. You'll pull out my hair with your long
claws, if you don't have a care."
The king stretched out his hand to take the pigeon, but it spread its
wings and flew again through the open window, when its whiteness made
one flash in the sun and vanished. The king laid his hand on the
princess's head, held it back a little, gazed in her face, smiled half a
smile and sighed half a sigh.
"Come, my child; we'll have a walk in the garden together," he said.
"You won't come up and see my huge, great, beautiful grandmother, then,
king-papa?" said the princess.
"Not this time," said the king very gently. "She has not invited me, you
know, and great old ladies like her do not choose to be visited without
leave asked and given."
The garden was a very lovely place. Being upon a mountain side, there
were parts in it where the rocks came through in great masses, and all
immediately about them remained quite wild. Tufts of heather grew upon
them, and other hardy mountain plants and flowers, while near them would
be lovely roses and lilies, and all pleasant garden flowers. This
mingling of the wild mountain with the civilized garden was very quaint,
and it was impossible for any number of gardeners to make such a garden
look formal and stiff.
Against one of these rocks was a garden-seat, shadowed, from the
afternoon sun by the overhanging of the rock itself. There was a little
winding path up to the top of the rock, and on the top another seat; but
they sat on the seat at its foot, because the sun was hot; and there
they talked together of many things. At length the king said:
"You were out late one evening, Irene."
"Yes, papa. It was my fault; and Lootie was very sorry."
"I must talk to Lootie about it," said the king.
"Don't speak loud to her, please, papa," said Irene. "She's been so
afraid of being late ever since! Indeed she has not been naughty. It was
only a mistake for once."
"Once might be too often," murmured the king to himself, as he stroked
his child's head.
I cannot tell you how he had come to know. I am sure Curdie had not told
him. Some one about the palace must have seen them, after all. He sat
for a good while thinking. There was no sound to be heard except that of
a little stream which ran merrily out of an opening in the rock by where
they sat, and sped away down the hill through the garden. Then he rose,
and leaving Irene where she was, went into the house and sent for
Lootie, with whom he had a talk that made her cry.
When in the evening he rode away upon his great white horse, he left six
of his attendants behind him, with orders that three of them should
watch outside the house every night, walking round and round it from
sunset to sunrise. It was clear he was not quite comfortable about the
princess.