THE MAIDEN OF THE MOUNTAIN
Once upon a time, in a noble realm to the west of the Golden Plain, there towered to the sky a solitary height of such majesty and grave beauty that the realm became known through the world as the Kingdom of the Mountain. Mighty, snow-capped, and serene it rose beyond the little woods and willow-bordered streams.
Now it came to pass that a king ruled in the land who had been left with two little motherless children, the Prince Ariel and the Princess Leoline. The Princess was the elder of the two and, though only three years old, considered herself quite a grown-up personage; as for the little Prince, he was but a child in arms. From a window of their chamber in a tower-top, the children were wont to look forth over the land to the mountain rising afar, now blazing white and bright in the clear midwinter air, now half concealed in summer’s hazy veil.
And now, with the suddenness of a tempest shattering the quiet of the night, a wicked nobleman, Babylan by name, rose against the good King and challenged him to do battle for his throne.
Now it chanced that the wise old nurse to whom the King had entrusted the Princess Leoline had for some time feared that all was not well with her master’s cause, so on the day of battle she climbed to a high tower-top to see what she could see. Already from afar, through the dull still morning, could be heard the sullen tumult of the fray. Closer and closer advancing, hour by hour louder and louder growing, the tide of battle approached the very gates of the stronghold.
Suddenly, enveloped in a cloud of dust, the first stragglers from the King’s defeated army burst from a little wood and came hastening down the road toward the castle. Knowing only too well that all was lost and that the troops of Babylan would be soon battering at the gate, the good nurse caught up Leoline and hurried down the curving stair to warn the guardians of Ariel.
Neither Prince nor guardian, however, could she find. The castle was already in confusion, people were running hither and thither, an alarm bell was wildly clanging, and in the soldiers’ court a runaway was gasping out his story to a handful of frightened listeners. Well aware that her first duty must be the safety of the little Princess sleeping on her shoulder, the old nurse abandoned the search for Ariel and fled from the castle with her charge. And because she had been born in a village of the mountain and knew the region to be inaccessible and wild, the brave nurse turned her steps toward the height.
All night long, down lonely lane and royal highway, by woodland path and river road the brave woman hurried through the dark war-shaken land. The voice of great waters, roaring in the night under turreted bridges, beat upon her ears as she fled; messengers galloped by, spurring fast; and here and there a signal beacon flamed afar on some high crest. But presently the swarming stars grew pale, and streaks of day appeared in the east.
Pausing at a lonely farm at the end of the lowland way, the nurse begged a crock of milk and a morsel of bread for herself and Leoline.
To the east, beyond the hills, rose the great snowy summit of the mountain, outlined against a clear green sky of dawn.
And now the pleasant fields gave way to rocky wind-swept pastures, lying at the foot of a road winding and climbing along a great ridge of the mountain to a tiny village at a valley’s height. To the right of this road, towering steeps of rock soared to a wild, snow-mantled crest; to the left, the mountain side fell away, a terrible precipice, to a torrent all afoam. Up this road fled the old nurse, half carrying, half dragging the weary and bewildered Leoline.
When they arrived at the journey’s end, the day was at its close, the air was hushed, and the wide chasm of the valley lay dark with mist and gloom. The sun had set upon the huddled roofs of the village; but, towering into the upper air, the ruling summit still beheld the western light and reflected a rosy splendor in its snows.
Once safe in the village, the old nurse took refuge in a cottage belonging to her sister, a widow woman who kept a flock of sheep. Fearful lest the cruel Babylan in some manner become aware of the Princess and her refuge, the good woman wisely determined to keep secret the true history of her little guest. In time even Leoline herself forgot all about the palace.
Thus did it come to pass that Leoline the Princess became Leoline the Maiden of the Mountain.
As for the Prince Ariel, his fate remained a mystery. Some said the poor little Prince had perished in a sort of prison, some whispered that the wicked new King had caused him to be abandoned in the wildwood. But, whatever the truth may have been, no one at the palace saw him or heard from him any more.
And now passed many years. Safe within her refuge in the mountain, the Princess Leoline grew from a rosy-cheeked mountain child to a tall, blue-eyed, golden-haired shepherdess. Far and wide through the villages of the height ran tales of her stout-heartedness and great daring, her gentleness and courtesy as well. Again and again, in quest of a strayaway or seeking some rare flower of the snows, she had made her way to heights to which none had ever dared aspire. Indeed, so fearless was the royal shepherdess that presently a poor woman to whom she had brought an armful of snow violets cried out to her that she must surely be under the protection of the Giant of the Mountain!
“The Giant of the Mountain,” asked Leoline, “who is he? Pray tell me, for I have never before heard of him.”
And she turned her head to gaze wonderingly on the wild crest of the mountain half hidden in the morning mist.
“The Giant of the Mountain is the ruler of the height,” replied the village goodwife. “At least so men say, though never in my lifetime have men beheld him. Perhaps he has hidden himself away from mortals. But long ago, Maiden Leoline, in the days of the grandsires, men who climbed beyond the torrents sometimes heard a great voice speaking solemn as thunder in the hills.”
“Would that I might behold him!” cried Leoline. And with wonder in her heart she returned to the daily task of watching her sheep. Clad in a pretty dress of rustic brown and wearing a kirtle of apple green, the royal shepherdess was very fair to see.
Now it came to pass on the afternoon of that very day that, as Leoline was driving her flock home to its fold, she heard the sound of weeping, and presently she overtook a little sister-shepherdess in tears. Catching the child to her, Leoline endeavored to comfort her and asked her why she wept.
“Alas! Maiden Leoline,” replied the ragged little shepherdess, “I weep because the white lamb which my father bade me guard has strayed away and is nowhere to be found. Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?”
And the little shepherdess wept afresh, while her halted flock lowered their silly heads and bleated mournfully.
“A white lamb?” said Leoline. “Come, take heart; he cannot be far away. We shall find him, I am sure, for the sun is still high above the west, and the day is far from spent. Do you but remain here and guard your flock and mine, while I go to search the pasture by the snows.” And with these words the kind maiden turned her face to the height.
Through upland pasture and rocky dell fared Leoline, scanning the waving flower-strewn grass for the lost white lamb, and listening for a forlorn crying; but of the lamb she had neither sight nor sound. Little by little the afternoon drew to a close. Presently a chill of cold and dark crept into the air as the sun vanished behind a great mass of sombre cloud.
Finding a mountain torrent near at hand, Leoline followed the edge of the roaring stream toward the wild steeps of the mountain.
The sky was now but one vast and seemingly motionless sea of cloud. Beneath this cloudy tent, however, floating strangely and swiftly by, fled steamy wisps and fragments of shapeless mist, and ever and anon one of these fugitives enveloped Leoline in its chilly veil. Bravely making her way along a path every step more dangerous growing, the maiden at length attained the last sweep of open land. Strewn with lovely flowers was the field; and two strange crags, which Leoline had never seen before, rose from its further bound.
Now as Leoline gazed upon the two crags, the level floor of rock lifted high between them, and the pinnacled wall of cliff rising behind, she beheld that they formed together a marvelous great throne, of which the two crags were the carven arms and the cliff-wall the sculptured back—a throne for a giant being mighty as the mountain: a being whose feet were of the earth and whose body rose to the clouds and the marshaled stars. And this chair stood exalted high, strange and noble and dark, now outlined against the sullen clouds, now caught up and hidden in their depths.
Presently the unseen sun sank below the crest of the mountain and a wild dark fell. The clouds rolled about the craggy throne.
For a long moment Leoline, awed yet unafraid, gazed at the Giant of the Mountain
For a long moment Leoline, awed yet unafraid, gazed at the Giant of the Mountain
For a long moment Leoline, awed yet unafraid, gazed at the Giant of the Mountain
And now, of a sudden, a great roaring wind arose which swept the mountain-top with a sound of noble music; the cloud veil broke asunder and rolled away; a rich and sudden light poured down upon the field; and Leoline beheld the great throne uplifted high against the sunset’s flare. And within the throne, mantled in a robe that might of cloud have been spun, sat a giant being. The western light was about his head, his hands rested on the crags, and there was mystery in his eyes.
For a long moment Leoline, awed yet unafraid, gazed at the Giant of the Mountain. Then came a sound like unto a far trumpet-clang, the winds were again unleashed, the clouds once more gathered together, and throne and Giant vanished in the mountain gloom.
All at once Leoline heard a pitiful cry and, looking down, beheld the lost lamb at her feet. Whence could it have come? It was nowhere to be seen a moment before.
Lifting the lamb gently up, Leoline carried it through the twilight to the little shepherdess.
And now a year and half a year again passed, and presently disorder reigned once more within the realm. Weary of Babylan and his tyrannies, the people of the land were gathering from far and wide to drive him from his throne. Surely there was never a worse King! Did he demand gold from some unhappy village, gold would he have, or else the villagers would see their houses in flames and their lowing cattle being harried to the royal barns; his prisons were full of innocent folk whose possessions he coveted or against whom he had taken a grudge; no longer in the land was to be found that friendly spirit and good cheer which had reigned there in the time of Leoline’s unhappy father. But, though the anger of Babylan was the anger of the thunderstroke, there is an end to all patience; and presently the land rose against the King.
The leader of the people in this strife was a young forester of humble birth, named Norbert. This daring youth, I must tell you, had once been imprisoned by Babylan for saving a poor family from his oppression, but had succeeded in escaping to the mountain. Courteous, generous, and brave as a lion, the young Captain was the idol of the land.
Presently the tidings of the revolt arrived at the village in the mountain, and from rocky pasture and upland field the youth of the neighborhood gathered in the village square to choose their chief. And because Leoline was so spirited and daring, they cried out that she must be their leader and that no other would they obey. Riding at the head of her band of sturdy mountaineers and clad in the armor of a young knight, even thus went the shepherdess Princess to the wars.
Little by little the army of the revolt swept towards the stronghold of Babylan, and presently encamped at the foot of a huge ridge of land no great distance from the city. And there, in the meadows below the ridge, the people slept, doubting not that the next eve would see their victorious standards in the city streets and Babylan their prisoner.
But when came the dawn they beheld the terrible black horsemen of Babylan drawn up in line along the ridge. The sky was pale behind them, they moved not, and little awakening breezes fluttered their dark bannerets. Midway in the sombre rank, mounted upon a giant charger halted a little ahead of the others, was to be seen the wicked King. All at once there were trumpet calls, some near, others afar, and with a great wild echoing cry the host of Babylan swept galloping down the slope of the ridge upon the surprised soldiery of the people.
And now all was confusion indeed! A panic was at hand. Emboldened, however, by the coolness, courage, and resource of Norbert, the army of the revolt, though taken by surprise, rallied quickly and held its ground. All day long thunder of arms resounded from the fair green fields and fruit-laden orchards. Norbert performed prodigies of valor, and Leoline was ever to be found in the thick of the fray. Now at the head of her mountaineers she brought succor to an encircled group of her comrades in the revolt, now from Babylan’s own color-bearer she wrested the black standard with the scarlet eagles, now was she to be seen giving water to both wounded friend and foe. But, alas! as the day grew old and the shadows lengthened, the host of Babylan slowly gained the mastery, and by nightfall the army of the people was fleeing in disorder through the highways and the fields.
Now it came to pass that Leoline, forced at length to abandon the struggle in which she had played so brave a part, discovered Norbert lying wounded and unheeded in an orchard. Dismounting from her horse, she lifted the young leader to the saddle and, accompanied by her faithful troop, hurried through the night toward the village in the mountains.
And now it was once more dawn. Presently Leoline, Norbert, and their followers arrived at the little cottage in which Leoline’s old nurse and foster mother awaited her return. It was cold, and a crackling fire was burning on the huge hearth. After placing their unhappy young leader on a little pallet, the mountaineers withdrew, leaving Leoline and her foster mother to care for him. As for poor Norbert, alas! so weak was he that he lay helpless and unknowing.
And now, of a sudden, there came a swift knocking at the door, and opening it, Leoline discovered there the little shepherdess whose white lamb she had found the year before.
“Oh, Maiden Leoline,” cried out the little shepherdess, “I have come to warn you! The King has discovered this refuge and is on his way here with a troop of horsemen. They are mounting the road along the ridge; my father has seen them from the high rock. Oh, make haste and hide or you will fall into his cruel hands!”
“But our Captain; what of him?” asked Leoline. “We cannot desert him in his hour of sorrow and defeat. Quick, give me your aid, and we will hide him away in yonder pines.”
But the old nurse shook her head. “Nay,” she said, “stir him now, and he will never again waken into life.”
“Oh, Maiden Leoline, do make haste,” cried the little shepherdess, holding the door ajar.
“Nay, little sister,” answered Leoline, shaking her head, “here shall I remain. Farewell, little friend; I thank thee for the warning.”
Now rose the morning sun in splendor over the shoulder of the mighty mountain, rolling away the mists and revealing the dewy fields, the crags, and the eternal snows in all their bright unsullied loveliness. Leaving Norbert in the care of the old nurse, Leoline ran to the high rock.
Before and below her lay the village, then the deep gulf of the valley opening toward the distant plain. All at once the Princess beheld Babylan and his men! Up the road leading along the side of the higher crest they were mounting. Ever and anon, on lesser slopes of the winding road, they galloped their steeds.
Now crept despair into the heart of the brave Leoline even as the bitter cold of a winter’s night creeps into a room when sinks the fire. And in her heart she beheld the helpless Norbert in the hands of his enemy, her people flying, pursued, to the caverns in the mountain, and her village laid low.
But of whom could she now seek aid? Along the snow-crested ridge nearer and nearer rode the wicked King.
Suddenly Leoline recalled to mind the Giant of the Mountain. Turning her face toward the mountain peak, she lifted her arms to it and cried aloud:—
“O Giant of the Mountain, O Giant of the Snows, help us in our need!”
Loud and clear rang the cry of Leoline through the mountain air and was followed by a silence.
A breeze shook the branches of the dwarfed pines; a bird sang.
Then, suddenly, a far high murmur trembled to a roar, a roar loud and terrible enough to drown all the sounds of the world, and from the snow-capped ridge above the road there flowed and rolled down on Babylan and his men a mighty avalanche. Huge stones were there in it, glistening ice and snow, brown earth and uprooted pines. Sweeping over the road, the mass poured over the precipice into the valley-depth a league below.
Such was the end of the wicked Babylan.
Now it came to pass that, because his horse had gone lame, one of Babylan’s men had fallen behind and, as a consequence, had escaped the avalanche. Upon this fellow the mountaineers quickly fell and were about to do him a mischief when the horseman cried:—
“Hold! Hold! I, and I alone, can tell you of the lost Prince Ariel.”
Hearing these words, the mountaineers thought it wise to take their captive to Leoline. Bound securely, the horseman was thrust into a corner of the cottage and commanded to tell his story to the assembled company.
“Babylan gave me the Prince Ariel,” said the man at arms, “and bade me abandon him in the wildwood. But I obeyed not his cruel word and left the child with a good forester, named Hildebrand of the Oaks.”
Now, when the horseman had spoken, all present knew that, by a strange and wonderful turn of Fortune’s wheel, their young leader was likewise their lawful lord and king. For Norbert the daring had passed as the son of the forester, Hildebrand of the Oaks.
And now it was the old nurse’s turn to speak. Said she, “Long enough have I kept my counsel, but now that the danger which kept me silent is no more, I may tell all. Our Leoline, whom you have known as Leoline, the shepherdess, is Leoline, our Princess and own sister to Prince Ariel.”
And she told them all of her flight to the mountain and of how she had saved the little Princess from the cruel Babylan. You will believe that Leoline was amazed to find herself a real Princess. But her heart was filled with joy and pride because of her brother’s deeds.
Now, when Ariel’s wounds had healed and his strength had returned, the people of the mountain escorted him in triumph to the royal city, and there, amid universal joy, the brave Prince claimed and received his own. The annals of Fairyland tell of no better King. I am glad to say that he richly rewarded both the man at arms and the old nurse.
As for Leoline, she took the Mountain for her kingdom and, under the protection of the Giant of the Height, dwelt there long in peace and happiness.