THE QUEST OF SIR GUYON
Long ago, on the first day of every year, the Queen of the Fairies used to give a great feast.
On that day all the bravest of her knights came to her court, and when people wanted help to slay a dragon or a savage beast, or to drive away a witch or wicked fairy, they also came and told their stories.
To one of those feasts there came an old palmer dressed in black. His hair was grey, and he leaned heavily on his long staff. He told a sad tale of the evil things done in his land by a wicked witch.
The Faery Queen turned to Guyon, one of the bravest and handsomest of her young knights. ‘You shall go with this old man and save his land,’ she said to him.
‘I am not worthy,’ said Sir Guyon, ‘but I will do your bidding and my best.’
So he rode away with the palmer. Hisgood horse had never paced so slowly before, for Guyon made him keep step with the feeble old man.
It was not possible to go far from the fairy court without having fights and adventures, but in every fight Guyon was the victor, because he listened to what the good old palmer said, and did not think that he himself knew better.
One day they came to a wide river on which floated a little boat, all decked out with green branches. In it sat a fair lady, who sang and laughed and seemed very happy and very gay. She was a servant of the wicked witch for whom Guyon was looking, but this Guyon did not know. She offered to ferry Guyon across the river, but she said there was no room in her boat for the palmer.
Guyon thought she looked so pretty and merry, and so kind, that he gladly went with her.
Together they gaily sailed down the river. When the birds sang, she sang along with them, and when little waves gurgled and laughed against the side of the boat, she laughed too.
But soon Guyon found that she was notreally good, and he loved her gay laugh no longer, and presently left her and wandered on alone in the island to which she had brought him.
At last he came to a gloomy glen where trees and shrubs grew so thickly that no sunlight could get in. Sitting there in the darkness he found a rough and ugly man. His face was tanned with smoke and his eyes were bleared. Great heaps of gold lay about him on every side. When he saw Guyon, he dashed in a great fright at his money, and began to try to pour it into a hole and hide it, lest Guyon should steal it from him.
But Guyon ran quickly at him and caught him by the arm.
‘Who are you,’ he asked, ‘who hide your money in this lonely place, instead of using it rightly or giving it away?’
To which the man answered, ‘I am Mammon, the Money God. I am the greatest god beneath the sky. If you will be my servant, all this money shall be yours. Or if this be not gold enough for you, a mountain of gold, ten times more than what you see, shall be your very own.’
But Guyon shook his head. ‘I want none of your gold,’ said he.
‘Fair shields, gay steeds, bright arms be my delight,Those be the riches fit for an adventurous knight.’
Then said the Money God, ‘Money will buy you all those things. It can buy you crowns and kingdoms.’
‘Money brings wars and wrongs, bloodshed and bitterness,’ said Guyon. ‘You may keep your gold.’
The Money God grew angry then.
‘You do not know what you refuse,’ he said. ‘Come with me and see.’
Guyon the fearless followed him into the thickest of the bushes and down a dark opening in the ground.
On and on they went through the darkness. Ugly things came and glared at them, and owls and night ravens flapped their wings, but Guyon had no fear.
At length they came to a huge cave whose roof and floor and walls were all of gold, but the gold was dimmed by dust and cobwebs. A light like the light of the moon from behind a dark cloud showed Guyon great ironchests and coffers full of money, but the ground was strewn with the skulls and dry bones of men who had tried to get the gold, and who had failed and perished there.
Great heaps of gold lay about him on every side (page 47)
‘Will you serve me now?’ asked Mammon. ‘Only be my servant, and all these riches shall be yours.’
‘I will not serve you,’ answered Guyon. ‘I place a higher happiness before my eyes.’
Then Mammon led him into another room where were a hundred blazing furnaces.
Hideous slaves of the Money God blew bellows and stirred the flames, and ladled out of huge caldrons on the fires great spoonfuls of molten gold. When they saw Guyon in his shining armour, they stopped their work and stared at him in fear and amazement. Never before had they seen any one who was not as horrible and as ugly as themselves. Once again Mammon offered him the gold he saw, but again Guyon refused it.
Then did he bring him to a place where was a gate of beaten gold. Through this gate they passed, and Guyon found himself in a vast golden room, upheld by golden pillarsthat shone and sparkled with precious stones.
On a throne in this room sat a beautiful lady, dressed in clothes more gorgeous than any that the greatest king on earth ever wore.
‘That is my daughter,’ said Mammon. ‘She shall be your wife, and all these treasures that are too great to be counted shall be yours, if only you will be my servant.’
‘I thank you, Mammon,’ said Guyon, ‘but my love is given to another lady.’
The Money God was full of rage, yet still he thought that he might win Guyon to his will. He took him to a garden where dark cypresses hung their heads over the flaming blossoms of poppies that made men sleep for ever, and where every sort of poisonous flower and shrub flourished richly. It was called the Garden of Proserpine.
The most beautiful thing in the garden was a great tree, thickly leaved and heavily hung with shining golden apples. The branches of the tree hung their golden fruit over a dark river.
When Guyon went to the river’s brink and looked in, he saw many men struggling and moaning in the dark and fearful water.Some were trying to grasp the fruit that hung just beyond their reach, and others were trying vainly to get out.
‘You fool!’ said Mammon, ‘why do you not pick some of the golden fruit that hangs so easily within your reach?’
But Guyon, although for three long days and nights he had been without sleep and meat and drink in the dark land of the Money God, was too true and good a knight to do what Mammon wished. Had he picked the fruit, he would have put himself in Mammon’s power, and at once been torn into a thousand pieces.
‘I will not take the fruit,’ he said; ‘I will not be your slave.’
And then, for days and days, Guyon knew no more.
When he came to himself and opened his eyes, he found that his head was resting on the knee of the good old palmer.
After the witch’s beautiful servant had rowed Guyon away, the palmer had tried and tried to find a means of crossing the river, until at last he succeeded.
Day after day he sought Guyon, until one day a fairy voice called to him, loud and clear, ‘Come hither! hither! oh come hastily!’
He hurried to the place from whence the voice came, and in the dark thicket where Mammon had sat and counted his gold, he found Guyon lying.
A beautiful spirit with golden hair and shining wings of many colours, like the wings of a lovely bird, sat by Guyon’s side, keeping all enemies and evil things far from him.
When Guyon felt able for the journey, he and the palmer went on with their travels, and he had many fights and many adventures. But ever after he had been tempted to be Mammon’s slave and had resisted him, he was a better and a braver knight.
All his battles ended in victories, and he helped all those who needed help, and at last he and the palmer reached the shore of the sea across which was the land of the wicked witch.
They got a little boat, and a boatman to row them, and for two days they were far out at sea.
On the morning of the third day, Guyon and the others heard the sound of raging water. In the trembling light of the dawn that was spreading across the sea they saw great waves casting themselves high into the sky.
It was a gulf, called the Gulf of Greediness, and in its furious waves many ships were wrecked. But the palmer steered so straight and well that he guided the little boat without harm through the angry seas.
On one side of the gulf was a great black rock where screaming seamews and cormorants sat and waited for ships to be wrecked. It was a magic rock, and the water round it tried to draw Guyon’s boat against its ragged sides, that it might be smashed to pieces like the other boats and ships whose broken fragments tossed up and down in the tide.
But so wisely did the palmer steer, and so strongly did the boatman row, that they safely passed the magic rock and got into calm water. And still the boatman rowed so hard that the little boat cut through the water like a silver blade, and the spray dashed off the oars into Guyon’s face.
‘I see land!’ at last called Guyon.
On every side they saw little islands. When they got nearer they found that they looked fresh and green and pleasant. Tall trees with blossoms of white and red grew on them.
‘Let us land!’ cried Guyon.
But the boatman shook his head.
‘Those are the Wandering Islands,’ he said. ‘They are magic islands, and if any one lands on one of them he must wander for ever and ever.’
On one island sat a beautiful lady, with her long hair flowing round her. She beckoned and called to them to come on shore, and when they would not listen she jumped into a little boat and rowed swiftly after them.
Then Guyon saw that it was the wicked witch’s beautiful servant, and they took no notice of her. So she got tired of coaxing, and went away, calling them names.
A terrible whirlpool, where the waves rushed furiously round and round, was the next danger that they met. Then, when they were free of that, a great storm arose, and every fierce and ugly fish and monster that ever lived in the sea came rushing at the boat from out the foaming waves, roaring as if they were going to devour them.
‘Have no fear,’ said the palmer to Guyon. ‘These ugly shapes were only made by the wicked witch to frighten you.’
With his palmer’s staff he smote the sea.The waves sank down to rest, and all the ugly monsters vanished away.
When the storm had ceased they saw on an island a lady, who wept and wailed and cried for help.
Guyon, who was always ready to help those who wanted help, wished at once to go to her.
But the palmer would not let him.
‘She is another of the servants of the witch,’ he said, ‘and is only pretending to be sad.’
They came then to a peaceful bay that lay in the shadow of a great grey hill, and from it came the sweetest music that Guyon had ever heard.
Five beautiful mermaids were swimming in the clear green water, and the melody of their song made Guyon long to stop and listen. They had made this song about Guyon:
‘O thou fair son of gentle fairy,Thou art in mighty arms most magnifiedAbove all knights that ever battle tried.O! turn thy rudder hitherward awhile,Here may thy storm-beat vessel safely ride.This is the port of rest from troublous toil,The world’s sweet inn from pain and wearisome turmoil.’
The rolling sea gently echoed their music, and the breaking waves kept time with their voices. The very wind seemed to blend with the melody and make it so beautiful that Guyon longed and longed to go with them to their peaceful bay under the grey hill. But the palmer would not let him stop, and the boatman rowed onwards.
Then a thick, choking, grey mist crept over the sea and blotted out everything, and they could not tell where to steer. And round the boat flew great flocks of fierce birds and bats, smiting the voyagers in their faces with wicked wings.
Still the boatman rowed steadily on, and steadily the palmer steered, till the weather began to clear. And, when the fog was gone, they saw at last the fair land to which the Faerie Queen had sent Guyon, that he might save it from the magic of the wicked witch.
When they reached the shore the boatman stayed with his boat, and Guyon and the palmer landed. And the palmer was glad, for he felt that their task was nearly done.
Savage, roaring beasts rushed at them as soon as they reached the shore. But the palmer waved his staff at them, and theyshrank trembling away. Soon Guyon and his guide came to the palace of the witch.
The palace was made of ivory as white as the foam of the sea, and it glittered with gold. At the ivory gate stood a young man decked with flowers, and holding a staff in his hand. He impudently held out a great bowl of wine for Guyon to drink. But Guyon threw the bowl on the ground, and broke the staff with which the man worked wicked magic.
Then Guyon and the palmer passed on, through rich gardens full of beautiful flowers, and came to another gate made of green boughs and branches. Over it spread a vine, from which hung great bunches of grapes, red, and green, and purple and gold.
A beautiful lady stood by the gate. She reached up to a bunch of purple grapes, and squeezed their juice into a golden cup and offered it to Guyon. But Guyon dashed the cup to the ground, and left her raging at him.
Past trees and flowers and clear fountains they went, and all the time through this lovely place there rang magic music. Sweet voices, the song of birds, the whispering winds, the sound of silvery instruments, andthe murmur of water all blended together to make melody.
The farther they went, the more beautiful were the sights they saw, and the sweeter the music.
At last, lying on a bed of red roses, they found the wicked witch.
Softly they crept through the flowery shrubs to where she lay, and before she knew that they were near, Guyon threw over her a net that the palmer had made. She struggled wildly to free herself, but before she could escape, Guyon bound her fast with chains.
Then he broke down and destroyed the palace, and all the things that had seemed so beautiful, but that were only a part of her wicked magic.
As Guyon and the palmer led the witch by her chains to their boat that waited by the shore, the fierce beasts that had attacked them when they landed came roaring at them again.
But the palmer touched each one with his staff, and at once they were turned into men. For it was only the witch’s magic that had made them beasts. One of them, named Gryll, who had been a pig, was angrywith the palmer, and said he had far rather stay a pig than be a man.
‘Let Gryll be Gryll, and have his hoggish mind,But let us hence depart whilst weather serves and wind,’
said the palmer.
So they sailed away to the fairy court, and gave their wicked prisoner to the queen to be punished.
And Sir Guyon was ready once again to do the Faerie Queen’s commands, to war against all evil things, and to fight bravely for the right.
PASTORELLA
Long, long ago, in a far-away land, there lived a great noble, called the Lord of Many Islands. He had a beautiful daughter named Claribel, and he wished her to marry a rich prince.
But Claribel loved a brave young knight, and she married him without her father’s knowledge.
The Lord of Many Islands was fearfully angry when he found out that she was married.
He threw the young knight into one dark dungeon and Claribel into another, and there they were imprisoned for years and years, until the Lord of Many Islands was dead. Claribel was rich then, and she and her husband would have been very happy together, but for a great loss that they had had.
While she was in prison a little baby girl came to Claribel. She feared that her angry father might kill the baby if he knew that it had been born, so she gave it to her maid, and told her to give it to some one to take care of.
The maid carried the child far away to where there were no houses, but only wild moors and thick woods. There was no one there to give it to, but she dared not take it back in case its grandfather might kill it. She did not know what to do, and she cried and cried until the baby’s clothes were quite wet with her tears.
It was a very pretty baby, and the maid noticed that on its little breast there was a tiny purple mark, as if some one had painted on it an open rose. She drew its clothes over the mark, and then laid the baby gently down behind some green bushes, and went home crying bitterly.
When the baby found herself lying out in the cold with no one to care for her, she cried too. And she cried so loudly and so long, that a shepherd called Melibœus heard her cries, and came to see what was wrong.
When he found the beautiful baby, he wrapped her in his warm cloak and carried her home to his wife. From that day the baby was their little girl. They called her Pastorella, and loved her as if she were really their own.
Pastorella grew up amongst shepherdsand shepherdesses, yet she was never quite like them. None of the shepherdesses were as beautiful as she was, and none were as gentle nor as full of grace. So they called Pastorella their queen, and would often crown her with garlands of flowers.
When Pastorella was grown up, there came one day to the country of plains and woods where she lived a brave and noble knight.
His name was Calidore, and of all the knights of the Faerie Queen there was none so gentle nor so courteous as he. He always thought of others first, and never did anything that he thought would hurt the feelings of any one. Yet he was brave and strong, and had done many gallant deeds.
He was hunting a monster that had done much harm, when he came near the home of Pastorella.
Sheep were grazing on the plain, and nibbling the golden buds that the spring sunshine had brought to the broom. Shepherds were watching the sheep. Some were singing out of the happiness of their hearts, because of the blue sky and the green grass and the spring flowers. Others were playing on pipes they had made for themselves out of the fresh young willow saplings.
Calidore asked them if they had seen the monster that he sought.
‘We have seen no monster, nor any dreadful thing that could do our sheep or us harm,’ they answered, ‘and if there be such things, we pray they may be kept far from us.’
Then one of them, seeing how hot and tired Sir Calidore was, asked him if he would have something to drink and something to eat. Their food was very simple, but Calidore thanked them, and gladly sat down to eat and drink along with them.
A little way from where they sat, some shepherds and shepherdesses were dancing. Hand in hand, the pretty shepherdesses danced round in a ring. Beyond them sat a circle of shepherds, who sang and piped for the girls to dance. And on a green hillock in the middle of the ring of girls sat Pastorella. She wore a dainty gown that she herself had made, and on her head was a crown of spring flowers that the shepherdesses had bound together with gay silken ribbons.
‘Pastorella,’ sang the shepherds and the girls, ‘Pastorella is our queen.’
Calidore sat and watched. And the more he looked at Pastorella, the more he wanted to look. And he looked, and he looked, andhe looked again at Pastorella’s sweet and lovely face, until Pastorella had stolen all his heart away. He forgot all about the monster he was hunting, and could only say to himself, as the shepherds had sung, ‘Pastorella ... Pastorella ... Pastorella is my queen.’
All day long he sat, until the evening dew began to fall, and the sunset slowly died away, and the shepherds called the sheep together and drove them home.
As long as Pastorella was there, Calidore felt that he could not move. But presently an old man with silver hair and beard, and a shepherd’s crook in his hand, came and called to Pastorella, ‘Come, my daughter, it is time to go home.’
It was Melibœus, and when Calidore saw Pastorella rise and call her sheep and turn to go, he did not know what to do, for he could only think of Pastorella.
But when good old Melibœus saw the knight being left all alone, and the shadows falling, and the trees looking grey and cold, he said to him, ‘I have only a little cottage, turfed outside to keep out the wind and wet, but it is better to be there than to roam all night in the lonely woods, and I bid you welcome, Sir Knight.’
In the middle of the ring of girls sat Pastorella (page 63)
And Calidore gladly went with him, for that was just what he was longing to do.
All evening, as he listened to the talk of Melibœus, who was a wise and good old man, Calidore’s eyes followed Pastorella. He offered Melibœus some gold to pay for his lodging, but Melibœus said, ‘I do not want your gold, but, if you will, stay with us and be our guest.’
So, day after day, Calidore stayed with the shepherds. And, day after day, he loved Pastorella more. He treated her and said pretty things to her as knights were used to treat and to speak to the court ladies. But Pastorella was used to simpler things, and liked the simple things best.
When Calidore saw this, he laid aside his armour and dressed himself like a shepherd, with a crook instead of a spear. Every day he helped Pastorella to drive her sheep to the field, and took care of them and drove away the hungry wolves, so that she might do as she liked and never have any care, knowing that he was there.
Now, one of the shepherds, whose name was Corydon, for a long time had loved Pastorella. He would steal the little fluffysparrows from their nests, and catch the young squirrels, and bring them to her as gifts. He helped her with her sheep, and tried in every way he knew to show her that he loved her.
When he saw Calidore doing things for Pastorella he grew very jealous and angry. He sulked and scowled and was very cross with Pastorella.
One day when the shepherd who piped the best was playing, the other shepherds said that Calidore and Pastorella must dance. But Calidore put Corydon in his place, and when Pastorella took her own garland of flowers and placed it on Calidore’s head, Calidore gently took it off and put it on Corydon’s.
Another time, when the shepherds were wrestling, Corydon challenged Calidore to wrestle with him. Corydon was a very good wrestler, and he hoped to throw Calidore down. But in one minute Calidore had thrown Corydon flat on the ground. Then Pastorella gave the victor’s crown of oak-leaves to Calidore. But Calidore said ‘Corydon has won the oak-leaves well,’ and placed the crown on Corydon’s head.
All the shepherds except Corydon sooncame to like Calidore, for he was always gentle and kind. But Corydon hated him, because he thought that Pastorella cared for Calidore more than she cared for him.
One day Pastorella and Corydon and Calidore went together to the woods to gather wild strawberries. Pastorella’s little fingers were busy picking the ripe red fruit from amongst its fresh green leaves, when there glided from out the bushes a great beast of black and yellow, that walked quietly as a cat and had yellow, cruel eyes.
It was a tiger, and when Pastorella heard a twig break under its great pads, and looked up, it rushed at her fiercely. Pastorella screamed for help, and Corydon, who was near her, ran to see what was wrong. But when he saw the savage tiger, he ran away again in a fearful fright. Calidore was further off, but he, too, ran, and came just in time to see the tiger spring at Pastorella. He had no sword nor spear, but with his shepherd’s crook he struck the tiger such a terrific blow, that it dropped, stunned, to the ground. Before it could rise, he drew his knife and cut off its head, which he laid at Pastorella’s feet.
From that day Pastorella loved Calidore,and he and she were very, very happy together.
It chanced that one day Calidore went far into the forest to hunt the deer. While he was away a band of wicked robbers attacked the shepherds. They killed many of them, and took the rest prisoners. They burned down all their cottages, and stole their flocks of sheep.
Amongst those that they drove away as captives were Melibœus and his wife, Corydon, and Pastorella. Through the dark night they drove them on, until they came to the sea. On an island near the coast was the robbers’ home. The island was covered with trees and thick brushwood, and the robbers lived in underground caves, so well hidden amongst the bushes that it was hard to find them. The robbers meant to sell the shepherds and shepherdesses as slaves, but until merchants came to buy them they kept their prisoners in the darkest of the caves, and used them very cruelly.
One morning the robber captain came to look at his captives. When he saw Pastorella in her pretty gown, all soiled now and worn, with her long golden hair and beautiful blue eyes, and her face white andthin with suffering, he thought her so lovely that he determined to have her for his wife.
From that day she was kindly treated. But when the robber told Pastorella that he loved her and wanted her for his wife, she pretended she was ill.
‘I am much too ill to marry any one,’ she said.
To the island there came one day the ships of some merchants who wished to buy slaves. They bought Melibœus and Corydon and all the others. Then one of the robbers said to the captain:
‘They are all here but the fair shepherdess.’
And he told the merchants that Pastorella would make a much more beautiful slave than any of those they had bought.
Then the captain was very angry.
‘She belongs to me,’ he said. ‘I will not sell her.’
To show the merchants that Pastorella was ill and not fit to be a slave, at last he sent for her.
The cave was lighted only by flickering candles, and Pastorella’s fair face looked like a beautiful star in the darkness. Although she was so pale, she was so beautiful that themerchants said that they must certainly have her.
‘I have told you I will not sell her,’ said the captain sulkily.
They offered him much gold, but still he would only say, ‘I will not sell her.’
‘If you will not sell this slave,’ said the merchants, ‘we will not buy any of the others.’
Then the other robbers grew very angry with their captain, and tried to compel him to give in.
‘I shall kill the first who dares lay a hand on her!’ furiously said the captain, drawing his sword.
Then began a fearful fight. The candles were knocked down, and the robbers fought in the dark, no man knowing with whom he fought.
But before the candles went out, the robbers in their fury killed all their prisoners, lest they might take the chance of escaping, or fight against them. Old Melibœus and his wife were slain, and all the other shepherds and shepherdesses, excepting Corydon and Pastorella.
Corydon, who was always good at running away, escaped in the darkness.
The robber captain put Pastorella behind him, and fought for her. At last 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. Thecottages 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 Melibœus. 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 robberswere 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, tillhis 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 andher 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.
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 calledthe 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 gatheredtogether, Cambell told them that he had made a plan by which they could decide which of them was to marry Canacee.
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 theknights 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 hecould 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’spalace. 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.
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 withMarinell’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.
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 hadrecovered 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.
One day two great rivers were married, and all the sea-folk went to the wedding. A feast was given in the house of the Shepherd of the Seas, and while Cymoënt and the other nymphs were there, Marinell wandered about outside. For because Marinell’s father had been a knight and not one of the sea-folk, Marinell might not eat the food they ate.
While the feast went gaily on, Marinell heard piteous cries coming from under a black cliff. And when he listened, he knew that the voice was the voice of Florimell.
The wicked old Shepherd of the Seas had found her tossing on the waves in a little boat, and had taken her home to his deep-down caves to make her his wife. ButFlorimell did not love the old man. She loved only Marinell. So nothing that the shepherd could do would make Florimell say that she would marry him. At last, in a rage, he shut her up in a gloomy place under a dark rock, where no sunshine ever came.
‘She will soon grow tired of the dark and the loneliness,’ he thought, ‘and then she will give in, and become my wife.’
But Florimell would not give in. She was crying and sobbing when Marinell came to the rock, and he heard her say, ‘Marinell, Marinell, all this I suffer for love of thee.’
Marinell stood still and listened. Then he heard her say:—
‘In spite of all this sorrow, yet will I never of my love repent,But joy that for his sake I suffered prisonment.’
Then she gave yet more pitiful sobs, for she was very sad and cold and hungry. Yet always she would say again, between her sobs, ‘I will never love any man but Marinell.’
Now Marinell had never in all his life truly loved any one. But when he heard Florimell’s piteous voice, and knew how she loved him, and how much she hadsuffered for his sake, his heart, that had been so hard, grew soft.
‘Poor little maid,’ he said to himself, ‘poor, beautiful little Florimell.’
No sooner had he begun to love Florimell, than he began to think of a plan by which to save her from the bad old shepherd.
At first, he thought he would ask the shepherd to let her go. But he knew that that would be no good. Then he thought that he would fight with the shepherd, and win her in that way. But that plan he also gave up. ‘I will break into her prison, and steal her away,’ he thought next. But he had no boat, and the sea flowed all round the rock, so that it was not possible.
While he still thought and planned, the marriage-feast came to an end, and Marinell had to go home with his mother. He looked so miserable that no one would have taken him for a wedding-guest.
Each day that passed after the wedding found him looking more and more sad. He could not eat nor sleep for thinking of Florimell, shut up in a dreary dungeon from which he could not free her. For want of sleep and food, and because he was so unhappy, Marinell grew ill. He was soweak that he could not rise, and his mother, Cymoënt, was greatly distressed.
‘The wound he got from Britomart cannot be rightly healed,’ she said. So she sent for the wise doctor of the seas.
‘The old wound is quite whole,’ said the doctor. ‘This is a new pain which I cannot understand.’
Then Cymoënt sent for a doctor who was so wise and so great that he was chief of all the doctors on the land. When he had examined Marinell he said, ‘The name of this illness is Love.’
Then Cymoënt begged Marinell to tell her which of the sea-nymphs it was that he loved.
‘Whoever she is that you love,’ she said, ‘I shall help you to gain her for your wife.’
So Marinell told his mother that it was no nymph of the sea that had given his heart a deeper wound than ever Britomart’s spear had dealt.
‘I love Florimell,’ he said, ‘and she lies, a dreary prisoner, in the darkest cave of the Herd of the Seas.’
At first Cymoënt was sorry, for she did not wish her son to wed a maiden from the land. But when she knew how much Marinellloved Florimell, she went to Neptune, the King of all the Seas, as he sat on his throne, his three-pronged mace in his hand, and his long hair dripping with brine.
To him she told all the tale of Marinell and Florimell and the wicked old shepherd.
And Neptune wrote a royal warrant, and sealed it with the seal of the Sea Gods, commanding his shepherd to give up Florimell at once to Cymoënt the sea-nymph.
Thankfully Cymoënt took the warrant, and swiftly swam to the shepherd’s sea-caves.
The shepherd was very angry, but all the sea-folk had to obey Neptune, so he sulkily opened the prison door and let Florimell go free.
When the black-browed Cymoënt took hold of the little white hand of the maiden her son loved, and looked on her lovely face, she was no longer sorry that Marinell did not wish to marry a sea-nymph. For no maiden in the sea was as beautiful or as sweet as Florimell.
She led Florimell to her bower, where Marinell lay so pale and weak and sad. And when Marinell saw Florimell standing blushing beside him, her hand in hismother’s, all his sadness went away and his strength came back, and the pain in his heart was cured.
And if you listen some night when the stars are out, and the moon has made a silver path on the sea, you will hear the little waves that swish on the shore softly murmuring a little song. And perhaps, if your ears are very quick, and the big waves’ thunder does not drown the sound of their melody, you may hear them whispering the names of two happy lovers, Florimell and Marinell.