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The Frog and the Lion Fairy


Once upon a time there lived a king who was always at war with his
neighbours, which was very strange, as he was a good and kind man, quite
content with his own country, and not wanting to seize land belonging
to other people. Perhaps he may have tried too much to please everybody,
and that often ends in pleasing nobody; but, at any rate, he found
himself, at the end of a hard struggle, defeated in battle, and obliged
to fall back behind the walls of his capital city. Once there, he began
to make preparations for a long siege, and the first thing he did was to
plan how best to send his wife to a place of security.

The queen, who loved her husband dearly, would gladly have remained with
him to share his dangers, but he would not allow it. So they parted,
with many tears, and the queen set out with a strong guard to a
fortified castle on the outskirts of a great forest, some two hundred
miles distant. She cried nearly all the way, and when she arrived she
cried still more, for everything in the castle was dusty and old, and
outside there was only a gravelled courtyard, and the king had forbidden
her to go beyond the walls without at least two soldiers to take care of
her.

Now the queen had only been married a few months, and in her own home
she had been used to walk and ride all over the hills without any
attendants at all; so she felt very dull at her being shut up in this
way. However, she bore it for a long while because it was the king’s
wish, but when time passed and there were no signs of the war drifting
in the direction of the castle, she grew bolder, and sometimes strayed
outside the walls, in the direction of the forest.

Then came a dreadful period, when news from the king ceased entirely.

‘He must surely be ill or dead,’ thought the poor girl, who even now
was only sixteen. ‘I can bear it no longer, and if I do not get a letter
from him soon I shall leave this horrible place and go back to see what
is the matter. Oh! I do wish I had never come away!’

So, without telling anyone what she intended to do, she ordered a little
low carriage to be built, something like a sledge, only it was on two
wheels–just big enough to hold one person.

‘I am tired of being always in the castle,’ she said to her attendants;
‘and I mean to hunt a little. Quite close by, of course,’ she added,
seeing the anxious look on their faces. ‘And there is no reason that you
should not hunt too.’

All the faces brightened at that, for, to tell the truth, they were
nearly as dull as their mistress; so the queen had her way, and two
beautiful horses were brought from the stable to draw the little
chariot. At first the queen took care to keep near the rest of the
hunt, but gradually she stayed away longer and longer, and at last,
one morning, she took advantage of the appearance of a wild boar, after
which her whole court instantly galloped, to turn into a path in the
opposite direction.

Unluckily, it did not happen to lead towards the king’s palace, where
she intended to go, but she was so afraid her flight would be noticed
that she whipped up her horses till they ran away.

When she understood what was happening the poor young queen was terribly
frightened, and, dropping the reins, clung to the side of the chariot.
The horses, thus left without any control, dashed blindly against a
tree, and the queen was flung out on the ground, where she lay for some
minutes unconscious.

A rustling sound near her at length caused her to open her eyes; before
her stood a huge woman, almost a giantess, without any clothes save a
lion’s skin, which was thrown over her shoulders, while a dried snake’s
skin was plaited into her hair. In one hand she held a club on which she
leaned, and in the other a quiver full of arrows.

At the sight of this strange figure the queen thought she must be dead,
and gazing on an inhabitant of another world. So she murmured softly to
herself:

‘I am not surprised that people are so loth to die when they know that
they will see such horrible creatures.’ But, low as she spoke, the
giantess caught the words, and began to laugh.

‘Oh, don’t be afraid; you are still alive, and perhaps, after all, you
may be sorry for it. I am the Lion Fairy, and you are going to spend
the rest of your days with me in my palace, which is quite near this. So
come along.’ But the queen shrank back in horror.

‘Oh, Madam Lion, take me back, I pray you, to my castle; and fix what
ransom you like, for my husband will pay it, whatever it is. But the
giantess shook her head.

‘I am rich enough already,’ she answered, ‘but I am often dull, and I
think you may amuse me a little.’ And, so saying, she changed her shape
into that of a lion, and throwing the queen across her back, she went
down the ten thousand steps that led to her palace. The lion had reached
the centre of the earth before she stopped in front of a house, lighted
with lamps, and built on the edge of a lake of quicksilver. In this lake
various huge monsters might be seen playing or fighting–the queen
did not know which–and around flew rooks and ravens, uttering dismal
croaks. In the distance was a mountain down whose sides waters slowly
coursed–these were the tears of unhappy lovers–and nearer the gate
were trees without either fruit of flowers, while nettles and brambles
covered the ground. If the castle had been gloomy, what did the queen
feel about this?

For some days the queen was so much shaken by all she had gone through
that she lay with her eyes closed, unable either to move or speak. When
she got better, the Lion Fairy told her that if she liked she could
build herself a cabin, as she would have to spend her life in that
place. At these words the queen burst into tears, and implored her
gaoler to put her to death rather than condemn her to such a life; but
the Lion Fairy only laughed, and counselled her to try to make herself
pleasant, as many worse things might befall her.

‘Is there no way in which I can touch your heart?’ asked the poor girl
in despair.

‘Well, if you really wish to please me you will make me a pasty out of
the stings of bees, and be sure it is good.’

‘But I don’t see any bees,’ answered the queen, looking round.

‘Oh, no, there aren’t any,’ replied her tormentor; ‘but you will have to
find them all the same.’ And, so saying, she went away.

‘After all, what does it matter?’ thought the queen to herself, ‘I have
only one life, and I can but lose it.’ And not caring what she did, she
left the palace and seating herself under a yew tree, poured out all her
grief.

‘Oh, my dear husband,’ wept she, ‘what will you think when you come to
the castle to fetch me and find me gone? Rather a thousand times that
you should fancy me dead than imagine that I had forgotten you! Ah, how
fortunate that the broken chariot should be lying in the wood, for then
you may grieve for me as one devoured by wild beasts. And if another
should take my place in your heart–Well, at least I shall never know
it.’

She might have continued for long in this fashion had not the voice of
a crow directly overhead attracted her attention. Looking up to see what
was the matter she beheld, in the dim light, a crow holding a fat frog
in his claws, which he evidently intended for his supper. The queen rose
hastily from the seat, and striking the bird sharply on the claws with
the fan which hung from her side, she forced him to drop the frog,
which fell to the round more dead than alive. The crow, furious at his
disappointment, flew angrily away.

As soon as the frog had recovered her senses she hopped up to the queen,
who was still sitting under the yew. Standing on her hind legs, and
bowing low before her, she said gently:

‘Beautiful lady, by what mischance do you come here? You are the only
creature that I have seen do a kind deed since a fatal curiosity lured
me to this place.’

‘What sort of a frog can you be that knows the language of mortals?’
asked the queen in her turn. ‘But if you do, tell me, I pray, if I alone
am a captive, for hitherto I have beheld no one but the monsters of the
lake.’

‘Once upon a time they were men and women like yourself,’ answered
the frog, ‘but having power in their hands, they used it for their own
pleasure. Therefore fate has sent them here for a while to bear the
punishment of their misdoings.’

‘But you, friend frog, you are not one of these wicked people, I am
sure?’ asked the queen.

‘I am half a fairy,’ replied the frog; ‘but, although I have certain
magic gifts, I am not able to do all I wish. And if the Lion Fairy were
to know of my presence in her kingdom she would hasten to kill me.’

‘But if you are a fairy, how was it that you were so nearly slain by the
crow?’ said the queen, wrinkling her forehead.

‘Because the secret of my power lies in my little cap that is made of
rose leaves; but I had laid it aside for the moment, when that horrible
crow pounced upon me. Once it is on my head I fear nothing. But let me
repeat; had it not been for you I could not have escaped death, and if I
can do anything to help you, or soften your hard fate, you have only to
tell me.’

‘Alas,’ sighed the queen, ‘I have been commanded by the Lion Fairy
to make her a pasty out of the stings of bees, and, as far as I can
discover, there are none here; as how should there be, seeing there are
no flowers for them to feed on? And, even if there were, how could I
catch them?’

‘Leave it to me,’ said the frog, ‘I will manage it for you.’ And,
uttering a strange noise, she struck the ground thrice with her foot. In
an instant six thousand frogs appeared before her, one of them bearing a
little cap.

‘Cover yourselves with honey, and hop round by the beehives,’ commanded
the frog, putting on the cap which her friend was holding in her mouth.
And turning to the queen, he added:

‘The Lion Fairy keeps a store of bees in a secret place near to the
bottom of the ten thousand steps leading into the upper world. Not that
she wants them for herself, but they are sometimes useful to her in
punishing her victims. However, this time we will get the better of
her.’

Just as she had finished speaking the six thousand frogs returned,
looking so strange with bees sticking to every part of them that, sad as
she felt, the poor queen could not help laughing. The bees were all so
stupefied with what they had eaten that it was possible to draw their
stings without hunting them. So, with the help of her friend, the queen
soon made ready her pasty and carried it to the Lion Fairy.

‘Not enough pepper,’ said the giantess, gulping down large morsels, in
order the hide the surprise she felt. ‘Well, you have escaped this time,
and I am glad to find I have got a companion a little more intelligent
than the others I have tried. Now, you had better go and build yourself
a house.’

So the queen wandered away, and picking up a small axe which lay near
the door she began with the help of her friend the frog to cut down
some cypress trees for the purpose. And not content with that the six
thousand froggy servants were told to help also, and it was not long
before they had built the prettiest little cabin in the world, and made
a bed in one corner of dried ferns which they fetched from the top of
the ten thousand steps. It looked soft and comfortable, and the queen
was very glad to lie down upon it, so tired was she with all that had
happened since the morning. Scarcely, however, had she fallen asleep
when the lake monsters began to make the most horrible noises just
outside, while a small dragon crept in and terrified her so that she ran
away, which was just what the dragon wanted!

The poor queen crouched under a rock for the rest of the night, and the
next morning, when she woke from her troubled dreams, she was cheered at
seeing the frog watching by her.

‘I hear we shall have to build you another palace,’ said she. ‘Well,
this time we won’t go so near the lake.’ And she smiled with her funny
wide mouth, till the queen took heart, and they went together to find
wood for the new cabin.

The tiny palace was soon ready, and a fresh bed made of wild thyme,
which smelt delicious. Neither the queen nor the frog said anything
about it, but somehow, as always happens, the story came to the ears of
the Lion Fairy, and she sent a raven to fetch the culprit.

‘What gods or men are protecting you?’ she asked, with a frown. ‘This
earth, dried up by a constant rain of sulphur and fire, produces
nothing, yet I hear that YOUR bed is made of sweet smelling herbs.
However, as you can get flowers for yourself, of course you can get them
for me, and in an hour’s time I must have in my room a nosegay of the
rarest flowers. If not–! Now you can go.’

The poor queen returned to her house looking so sad that the frog, who
was waiting for her, noticed it directly.

‘What is the matter?’ said she, smiling.

‘Oh, how can you laugh!’ replied the queen. ‘This time I have to bring
her in an hour a posy of the rarest flowers, and where am I to find
them? If I fail I know she will kill me.’

‘Well, I must see if I can’t help you,’ answered the frog. ‘The only
person I have made friends with here is a bat. She is a good creature,
and always does what I tell her, so I will just lend her my cap, and
if she puts it on, and flies into the world, she will bring back all we
want. I would go myself, only she will be quicker.’

Then the queen dried her eyes, and waited patiently, and long before
the hour had gone by the bat flew in with all the most beautiful and
sweetest flowers that grew on the earth. The girl sprang up overjoyed
at the sight, and hurried with them to the Lion Fairy, who was so
astonished that for once she had nothing to say.

Now the smell and touch of the flowers had made the queen sick with
longing for her home, and she told the frog that she would certainly die
if she did not manage to escape somehow.

‘Let me consult my cap,’ said the frog; and taking it off she laid it in
a box, and threw in after it a few sprigs of juniper, some capers, and
two peas, which she carried under her right leg; she then shut down the
lid of the box, and murmured some words which the queen did not catch.

In a few moments a voice was heard speaking from the box.

‘Fate, who rules us all,’ said the voice, ‘forbids your leaving this
place till the time shall come when certain things are fulfilled. But,
instead, a gift shall be given you, which will comfort you in all your
troubles.’

And the voice spoke truly, for, a few days after, when the frog peeped
in at the door she found the most beautiful baby in the world lying by
the side of the queen.

‘So the cap has kept its word,’ cried the frog with delight. ‘How soft
its cheeks are, and what tiny feet it has got! What shall we call it?’

This was a very important point, and needed much discussion. A thousand
names were proposed and rejected for a thousand silly reasons. One was
another reminded the queen of somebody she did not like; but at length
an idea flashed into the queen’s head, and she called out:

‘I know! We will call her Muffette.’

‘That is the very thing,’ shouted the frog, jumping high into the air;
and so it was settled.

The princess Muffette was about six months old when the frog noticed
that the queen had begun to grow sad again.

‘Why do you have that look in your eyes?’ she asked one day, when she
had come in to play with the baby, who could now crawl.

The way they played their game was to let Muffette creep close to the
frog, and then for the frog to bound high into the air and alight on
the child’s head, or back, or legs, when she always sent up a shout of
pleasure. There is no play fellow like a frog; but then it must be a
fairy frog, or else you might hurt it, and if you did something dreadful
might happen to you. Well, as I have said, our frog was struck with the
queen’s sad face, and lost no time in asking her what was the reason.

‘I don’t see what you have to complain of now; Muffette is quite well
and quite happy, and even the Lion Fairy is kind to her when she sees
her. What is it?’

‘Oh! if her father could only see her!’ broke forth the queen, clasping
her hands. ‘Or if I could only tell him all that has happened since we
parted. But they will have brought him tidings of the broken carriage,
and he will have thought me dead, or devoured by wild beasts. And though
he will mourn for me long–I know that well–yet in time they will
persuade him to take a wife, and she will be young and fair, and he will
forget me.’

And in all this the queen guessed truly, save that nine long years were
to pass before he would consent to put another in her place.

The frog answered nothing at the time, but stopped her game and hopped
away among the cypress trees. Here she sat and thought and thought, and
the next morning she went back to the queen and said:

‘I have come, madam, to make you an offer. Shall I go to the king
instead of you, and tell him of your sufferings, and that he has the
most charming baby in the world for his daughter? The way is long, and
I travel slowly; but, sooner or later, I shall be sure to arrive. Only,
are you not afraid to be left without my protection? Ponder the matter
carefully; it is for you to decide.’

‘Oh, it needs no pondering,’ cried the queen joyfully, holding up her
clasped hands, and making Muffette do likewise, in token of gratitude.
But in order that he may know that you have come from me I will send him
a letter.’ And pricking her arm, she wrote a few words with her blood on
the corner of her handkerchief. Then tearing it off, she gave it to the
frog, and they bade each other farewell.

It took the frog a year and four days to mount the ten thousand steps
that led to the upper world, but that was because she was still under
the spell of a wicked fairy. By the time she reached the top, she was so
tired that she had to remain for another year on the banks of a stream
to rest, and also to arrange the procession with which she was to
present herself before the king. For she knew far too well what was due
to herself and her relations, to appear at Court as if she was a mere
nobody. At length, after many consultations with her cap, the affair was
settled, and at the end of the second year after her parting with the
queen they all set out.

First walked her bodyguard of grasshoppers, followed by her maids of
honour, who were those tiny green frogs you see in the fields, each
one mounted on a snail, and seated on a velvet saddle. Next came the
water-rats, dressed as pages, and lastly the frog herself, in a litter
borne by eight toads, and made of tortoiseshell. Here she could lie at
her ease, with her cap on her head, for it was quite large and roomy,
and could easily have held two eggs when the frog was not in it.

The journey lasted seven years, and all this time the queen suffered
tortures of hope, though Muffette did her best to comfort her. Indeed,
she would most likely have died had not the Lion Fairy taken a fancy
that the child and her mother should go hunting with her in the upper
world, and, in spite of her sorrows, it was always a joy to the queen to
see the sun again. As for little Muffette, by the time she was seven
her arrows seldom missed their mark. So, after all, the years of waiting
passed more quickly than the queen had dared to hope.

The frog was always careful to maintain her dignity, and nothing would
have persuaded her to show her face in public places, or even along the
high road, where there was a chance of meeting anyone. But sometimes,
when the procession had to cross a little stream, or go over a piece
of marshy ground, orders would be given for a halt; fine clothes were
thrown off, bridles were flung aside, and grasshoppers, water-rats, even
the frog herself, spent a delightful hour or two playing in the mud.

But at length the end was in sight, and the hardships were forgotten in
the vision of the towers of the king’s palace; and, one bright morning,
the cavalcade entered the gates with all the pomp and circumstance of
a royal embassy. And surely no ambassador had ever created such a
sensation! Door and windows, even the roofs of houses, were filled with
people, whose cheers reached the ears of the king. However, he had no
time to attend to such matters just then, as, after nine years, he had
at last consented to the entreaties of his courtiers, and was on the eve
of celebrating his second marriage.

The frog’s heart beat high when her litter drew up before the steps
of the palace, and leaning forward she beckoned to her side one of the
guards who were standing in his doorway.

‘I wish to see his Majesty,’ said he.

‘His Majesty is engaged, and can see no one,’ answered the soldier.

‘His Majesty will see ME,’ returned the frog, fixing her eye upon him;
and somehow the man found himself leading the procession along the
gallery into the Hall of Audience, where the king sat surrounded by his
nobles arranging the dresses which everyone was to wear at his marriage
ceremony.

All stared in surprise as the procession advanced, and still more
when the frog gave one bound from the litter on to the floor, and with
another landed on the arm of the chair of state.

‘I am only just in time, sire,’ began the frog; ‘had I been a day later
you would have broken your faith which you swore to the queen nine years
ago.’

‘Her remembrance will always be dear to me,’ answered the king gently,
though all present expected him to rebuke the frog severely for her
impertinence. But know, Lady Frog, that a king can seldom do as he
wishes, but must be bound by the desires of his subjects. For nine years
I have resisted them; now I can do so no longer, and have made choice of
the fair young maiden playing at ball yonder.’

‘You cannot wed her, however fair she may be, for the queen your wife is
still alive, and sends you this letter written in her own blood,’ said
the frog, holding out the square of handkerchief as she spoke. ‘And,
what is more, you have a daughter who is nearly nine years old, and more
beautiful than all the other children in the world put together.’

The king turned pale when he heard these words, and his hand trembled so
that he could hardly read what the queen had written. Then he kissed
the handkerchief twice or thrice, and burst into tears, and it was some
minutes before he could speak. When at length he found his voice he told
his councillors that the writing was indeed that of the queen, and
now that he had the joy of knowing she was alive he could, of course,
proceed no further with his second marriage. This naturally displeased
the ambassadors who had conducted the bride to court, and one of them
inquired indignantly if he meant to put such an insult on the princess
on the word of a mere frog.

‘I am not a “mere frog,” and I will give you proof of it,’ retorted the
angry little creature. And putting on her cap, she cried: Fairies that
are my friends, come hither!’ And in a moment a crowd of beautiful
creatures, each one with a crown on her head, stood before her.
Certainly none could have guessed that they were the snails,
water-rats, and grasshoppers from which she had chosen her retinue.

At a sign from the frog the fairies danced a ballet, with which everyone
was so delighted that they begged to have to repeated; but now it was
not youths and maidens who were dancing, but flowers. Then these again
melted into fountains, whose waters interlaced and, rushing down the
sides of the hall, poured out in a cascade down the steps, and formed
a river found the castle, with the most beautiful little boats upon it,
all painted and gilded.

‘Oh, let us go in them for a sail!’ cried the princess, who had long ago
left her game of ball for a sight of these marvels, and, as she was bent
upon it, the ambassadors, who had been charged never to lose sight of
her, were obliged to go also, though they never entered a boat if they
could help it.

But the moment they and the princess had seated themselves on the soft
cushions, river and boats vanished, and the princess and the ambassadors
vanished too. Instead the snails and grasshoppers and water-rats stood
round the frog in their natural shapes.

‘Perhaps,’ said she, ‘your Majesty may now be convinced that I am a
fairy and speak the truth. Therefore lose no time in setting in order
the affairs of your kingdom and go in search of your wife. Here is
a ring that will admit you into the presence of the queen, and will
likewise allow you to address unharmed the Lion Fairy, though she is the
most terrible creature that ever existed.’

By this time the king had forgotten all about the princess, whom he
had only chosen to please his people, and was as eager to depart on
his journey as the frog was for him to go. He made one of his ministers
regent of the kingdom, and gave the frog everything her heart could
desire; and with her ring on his finger he rode away to the outskirts of
the forest. Here he dismounted, and bidding his horse go home, he pushed
forward on foot.

Having nothing to guide him as to where he was likely to find the
entrance of the under-world, the king wandered hither and thither for
a long while, till, one day, while he was resting under a tree, a voice
spoke to him.

‘Why do you give yourself so much trouble for nought, when you might
know what you want to know for the asking? Alone you will never discover
the path that leads to your wife.’

Much startled, the king looked about him. He could see nothing, and
somehow, when he thought about it, the voice seemed as if it were part
of himself. Suddenly his eyes fell on the ring, and he understood.

‘Fool that I was!’ cried he; ‘and how much precious time have I wasted?
Dear ring, I beseech you, grant me a vision of my wife and my daughter!’
And even as he spoke there flashed past him a huge lioness, followed by
a lady and a beautiful young maid mounted on fairy horses.

Almost fainting with joy he gazed after them, and then sank back
trembling on the ground.

‘Oh, lead me to them, lead me to them!’ he exclaimed. And the ring,
bidding him take courage, conducted him safely to the dismal place where
his wife had lived for ten years.

Now the Lion Fairy knew beforehand of his expected presence in her
dominions, and she ordered a palace of crystal to be built in the middle
of the lake of quicksilver; and in order to make it more difficult of
approach she let it float whither it would. Immediately after their
return from the chase, where the king had seen them, she conveyed the
queen and Muffette into the palace, and put them under the guard of
the monsters of the lake, who one and all had fallen in love with the
princess. They were horribly jealous, and ready to eat each other up for
her sake, so they readily accepted the charge. Some stationed themselves
round the floating palace, some sat by the door, while the smallest and
lightest perched themselves on the roof.

Of course the king was quite ignorant of these arrangements, and boldly
entered the palace of the Lion Fairy, who was waiting for him, with her
tail lashing furiously, for she still kept her lion’s shape. With a
roar that shook the walls she flung herself upon him; but he was on the
watch, and a blow from his sword cut off the paw she had put forth to
strike him dead. She fell back, and with his helmet still on and his
shield up, he set his foot on her throat.

‘Give me back the wife and the child you have stolen from me,’ he said,
‘or you shall not live another second!’

But the fairy answered:

‘Look through the window at that lake and see if it is in my power to
give them to you.’ And the king looked, and through the crystal walls he
beheld his wife and daughter floating on the quicksilver. At that sight
the Lion Fairy and all her wickedness was forgotten. Flinging off his
helmet, he shouted to them with all his might. The queen knew his voice,
and she and Muffette ran to the window and held out their hands. Then
the king swore a solemn oath that he would never leave the spot without
taking them if it should cost him his life; and he meant it, though at
the moment he did not know what he was undertaking.

Three years passed by, and the king was no nearer to obtaining
his heart’s desire. He had suffered every hardship that could be
imagined–nettles had been his bed, wild fruits more bitter than gall
his food, while his days had been spent in fighting the hideous monsters
which kept him from the palace. He had not advanced one single step, nor
gained one solitary advantage. Now he was almost in despair, and ready
to defy everything and throw himself into the lake.

It was at this moment of his blackest misery that, one night, a dragon
who had long watched him from the roof crept to his side.

‘You thought that love would conquer all obstacles,’ said he; ‘well,
you have found it hasn’t! But if you will swear to me by your crown and
sceptre that you will give me a dinner of the food that I never grow
tired of, whenever I choose to ask for it, I will enable you to reach
your wife and daughter.’

Ah, how glad the king was to hear that! What oath would he not have
taken so as to clasp his wife and child in is arms? Joyfully he swore
whatever the dragon asked of him; then he jumped on his back, and in
another instant would have been carried by the strong wings into the
castle if the nearest monsters had not happened to awake and hear the
noise of talking and swum to the shore to give battle. The fight was
long and hard, and when the king at last beat back his foes another
struggle awaited him. At the entrance gigantic bats, owls, and crows set
upon him from all sides; but the dragon had teeth and claws, while the
queen broke off sharp bits of glass and stabbed and cut in her anxiety
to help her husband. At length the horrible creatures flew away; a sound
like thunder was heard, the palace and the monsters vanished, while, at
the same moment–no one knew how–the king found himself standing with
his wife and daughter in the hall of his own home.

The dragon had disappeared with all the rest, and for some years no more
was heard or thought of him. Muffette grew every day more beautiful,
and when she was fourteen the kings and emperors of the neighbouring
countries sent to ask her in marriage for themselves or their sons.
For a long time the girl turned a deaf ear to all their prayers; but at
length a young prince of rare gifts touched her heart, and though the
king had left her free to choose what husband she would, he had secretly
hoped that out of all the wooers this one might be his son-in-law. So
they were betrothed that some day with great pomp, and then with many
tears, the prince set out for his father’s court, bearing with him a
portrait of Muffette.

The days passed slowly to Muffette, in spite of her brave efforts to
occupy herself and not to sadden other people by her complaints. One
morning she was playing on her harp in the queen’s chamber when the king
burst into the room and clasped his daughter in his arms with an energy
that almost frightened her.

‘Oh, my child! my dear child! why were you ever born?’ cried he, as soon
as he could speak.

‘Is the prince dead?’ faltered Muffette, growing white and cold.

‘No, no; but–oh, how can I tell you!’ And he sank down on a pile of
cushions while his wife and daughter knelt beside him.

At length he was able to tell his tale, and a terrible one it was! There
had just arrived at court a huge giant, as ambassador from the dragon by
whose help the king had rescued the queen and Muffette from the crystal
palace. The dragon had been very busy for many years past, and had quite
forgotten the princess till the news of her betrothal reached his ears.
Then he remembered the bargain he had made with her father; and the more
he heard of Muffette the more he felt sure she would make a delicious
dish. So he had ordered the giant who was his servant to fetch her at
once.

No words would paint the horror of both the queen and the princess as
they listened to this dreadful doom. They rushed instantly to the hall,
where the giant was awaiting them, and flinging themselves at his feet
implored him to take the kingdom if he would, but to have pity on
the princess. The giant looked at them kindly, for he was not at all
hard-hearted, but said that he had no power to do anything, and that if
the princess did not go with him quietly the dragon would come himself.

Several days went by, and the king and queen hardly ceased from
entreating the aid of the giant, who by this time was getting weary of
waiting.

‘There is only one way of helping you,’ he said at last, ‘and that is to
marry the princess to my nephew, who, besides being young and handsome,
has been trained in magic, and will know how to keep her safe from the
dragon.’

‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ cried the parents, clasping his great hands
to their breasts. ‘You have indeed lifted a load from us. She shall have
half the kingdom for her dowry.’ But Muffette stood up and thrust them
aside.

‘I will not buy my life with faithlessness,’ she said proudly; ‘and
I will go with you this moment to the dragon’s abode.’ And all her
father’s and mother’s tears and prayers availed nothing to move her.

The next morning Muffette was put into a litter, and, guarded by the
giant and followed by the king and queen and the weeping maids of
honour, they started for the foot of the mountain where the dragon had
his castle. The way, though rough and stony, seemed all too short, and
when they reached the spot appointed by the dragon the giant ordered the
men who bore the litter to stand still.

‘It is time for you to bid farewell to your daughter,’ said he; ‘for I
see the dragon coming to us.’

It was true; a cloud appeared to pass over the sun, for between them and
it they could all discern dimly a huge body half a mile long approaching
nearer and nearer. At first the king could not believe that this was
the small beast who had seemed so friendly on the shore of the lake of
quicksilver but then he knew very little of necromancy, and had never
studied the art of expanding and contracting his body. But it was the
dragon and nothing else, whose six wings were carrying him forward as
fast as might be, considering his great weight and the length of his
tail, which had fifty twists and a half.

He came quickly, yes; but the frog, mounted on a greyhound, and wearing
her cap on her head, went quicker still. Entering a room where the
prince was sitting gazing at the portrait of his betrothed, she cried to
him:

‘What are you doing lingering here, when the life of the princess is
nearing its last moment? In the courtyard you will find a green horse
with three heads and twelve feet, and by its side a sword eighteen yards
long. Hasten, lest you should be too late!’

The fight lasted all day, and the prince’s strength was well-nigh spent,
when the dragon, thinking that the victory was won, opened his jaws to
give a roar of triumph. The prince saw his chance, and before his
foe could shut his mouth again had plunged his sword far down his
adversary’s throat. There was a desperate clutching of the claws to the
earth, a slow flagging of the great wings, then the monster rolled over
on his side and moved no more. Muffette was delivered.

After this they all went back to the palace. The marriage took place the
following day, and Muffette and her husband lived happy for ever after.

[From the Journal of the Anthropological Institute.]

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The Twelve Dancing Princesses


ONCE upon a time there lived in the village of Montignies-sur-Roc a
little cow-boy, without either father or mother. His real name was
Michael, but he was always called the Star Gazer, because when he drove
his cows over the commons to seek for pasture, he went along with his
head in the air, gaping at nothing.

As he had a white skin, blue eyes, and hair that curled all over his

This image is from Page 528 of "The Book ...

This image is from Page 528 of "The Book of Knowledge", "The Children’s Encyclopedia", Edited by Arthur Mee and Holland Thompson, Ph. D., Vol II, Copyright 1912, The Grolier Society of New York. This page is an illustration for the story "Twelve Dancing Princesses". Flickr data on 2011-08-18: Tags: 1912, book, Book of Knowledge, copyright free, creative commons, flickr, free, freebie License: CC BY 2.0 User: perpetualplum Sue Clark (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

head, the village girls used to cry after him, ‘Well, Star Gazer, what
are you doing?’ and Michael would answer, ‘Oh, nothing,’ and go on his
way without even turning to look at them.

The fact was he thought them very ugly, with their sun-burnt necks,
their great red hands, their coarse petticoats and their wooden shoes.
He had heard that somewhere in the world there were girls whose necks
were white and whose hands were small, who were always dressed in
the finest silks and laces, and were called princesses, and while his
companions round the fire saw nothing in the flames but common everyday
fancies, he dreamed that he had the happiness to marry a princess.

II

One morning about the middle of August, just at mid-day when the sun
was hottest, Michael ate his dinner of a piece of dry bread, and went
to sleep under an oak. And while he slept he dreamt that there appeared
before him a beautiful lady, dressed in a robe of cloth of gold, who
said to him: ‘Go to the castle of Beloeil, and there you shall marry a
princess.’

That evening the little cow-boy, who had been thinking a great deal
about the advice of the lady in the golden dress, told his dream to the
farm people. But, as was natural, they only laughed at the Star Gazer.

The next day at the same hour he went to sleep again under the same
tree. The lady appeared to him a second time, and said: ‘Go to the
castle of Beloeil, and you shall marry a princess.’

In the evening Michael told his friends that he had dreamed the same
dream again, but they only laughed at him more than before. ‘Never
mind,’ he thought to himself; ‘if the lady appears to me a third time, I
will do as she tells me.’

The following day, to the great astonishment of all the village, about
two o’clock in the afternoon a voice was heard singing:

‘Raleo, raleo, How the cattle go!’

It was the little cow-boy driving his herd back to the byre.

The farmer began to scold him furiously, but he answered quietly, ‘I am
going away,’ made his clothes into a bundle, said good-bye to all his
friends, and boldly set out to seek his fortunes.

There was great excitement through all the village, and on the top of
the hill the people stood holding their sides with laughing, as they
watched the Star Gazer trudging bravely along the valley with his bundle
at the end of his stick.

It was enough to make anyone laugh, certainly.

III

It was well known for full twenty miles round that there lived in the
castle of Beloeil twelve princesses of wonderful beauty, and as proud as
they were beautiful, and who were besides so very sensitive and of such
truly royal blood, that they would have felt at once the presence of a
pea in their beds, even if the mattresses had been laid over it.

It was whispered about that they led exactly the lives that princesses
ought to lead, sleeping far into the morning, and never getting up till
mid-day. They had twelve beds all in the same room, but what was very
extraordinary was the fact that though they were locked in by triple
bolts, every morning their satin shoes were found worn into holes.

When they were asked what they had been doing all night, they always
answered that they had been asleep; and, indeed, no noise was ever heard
in the room, yet the shoes could not wear themselves out alone!

At last the Duke of Beloeil ordered the trumpet to be sounded, and a
proclamation to be made that whoever could discover how his daughters
wore out their shoes should choose one of them for his wife.

On hearing the proclamation a number of princes arrived at the castle
to try their luck. They watched all night behind the open door of the
princesses, but when the morning came they had all disappeared, and no
one could tell what had become of them.

IV

When he reached the castle, Michael went straight to the gardener and
offered his services. Now it happened that the garden boy had just
been sent away, and though the Star Gazer did not look very sturdy,
the gardener agreed to take him, as he thought that his pretty face and
golden curls would please the princesses.

The first thing he was told was that when the princesses got up he was
to present each one with a bouquet, and Michael thought that if he had
nothing more unpleasant to do than that he should get on very well.

Accordingly he placed himself behind the door of the princesses’
room, with the twelve bouquets in a basket. He gave one to each of the
sisters, and they took them without even deigning to look at the lad,
except Lina the youngest, who fixed her large black eyes as soft as
velvet on him, and exclaimed, ‘Oh, how pretty he is–our new flower
boy!’ The rest all burst out laughing, and the eldest pointed out that a
princess ought never to lower herself by looking at a garden boy.

Now Michael knew quite well what had happened to all the princes, but
notwithstanding, the beautiful eyes of the Princess Lina inspired him
with a violent longing to try his fate. Unhappily he did not dare to
come forward, being afraid that he should only be jeered at, or even
turned away from the castle on account of his impudence.

V

Nevertheless, the Star Gazer had another dream. The lady in the golden
dress appeared to him once more, holding in one hand two young laurel
trees, a cherry laurel and a rose laurel, and in the other hand a
little golden rake, a little golden bucket, and a silken towel. She thus
addressed him:

‘Plant these two laurels in two large pots, rake them over with the
rake, water them with the bucket, and wipe them with the towel. When
they have grown as tall as a girl of fifteen, say to each of them, ”My
beautiful laurel, with the golden rake I have raked you, with the golden
bucket I have watered you, with the silken towel I have wiped you.”
Then after that ask anything you choose, and the laurels will give it to
you.’

Michael thanked the lady in the golden dress, and when he woke he found
the two laurel bushes beside him. So he carefully obeyed the orders he
had been given by the lady.

The trees grew very fast, and when they were as tall as a girl of
fifteen he said to the cherry laurel, ‘My lovely cherry laurel, with
the golden rake I have raked thee, with the golden bucket I have watered
thee, with the silken towel I have wiped thee. Teach me how to become
invisible.’ Then there instantly appeared on the laurel a pretty white
flower, which Michael gathered and stuck into his button-hole.

VI

That evening, when the princesses went upstairs to bed, he followed them
barefoot, so that he might make no noise, and hid himself under one of
the twelve beds, so as not to take up much room.

The princesses began at once to open their wardrobes and boxes. They
took out of them the most magnificent dresses, which they put on before
their mirrors, and when they had finished, turned themselves all round
to admire their appearances.

Michael could see nothing from his hiding-place, but he could hear
everything, and he listened to the princesses laughing and jumping with
pleasure. At last the eldest said, ‘Be quick, my sisters, our partners
will be impatient.’ At the end of an hour, when the Star Gazer heard
no more noise, he peeped out and saw the twelve sisters in splendid
garments, with their satin shoes on their feet, and in their hands the
bouquets he had brought them.

‘Are you ready?’ asked the eldest.

‘Yes,’ replied the other eleven in chorus, and they took their places
one by one behind her.

Then the eldest Princess clapped her hands three times and a trap door
opened. All the princesses disappeared down a secret staircase, and
Michael hastily followed them.

As he was following on the steps of the Princess Lina, he carelessly
trod on her dress.

‘There is somebody behind me,’ cried the Princess; ‘they are holding my
dress.’

‘You foolish thing,’ said her eldest sister, ‘you are always afraid of
something. It is only a nail which caught you.’

VII

They went down, down, down, till at last they came to a passage with
a door at one end, which was only fastened with a latch. The eldest
Princess opened it, and they found themselves immediately in a lovely
little wood, where the leaves were spangled with drops of silver which
shone in the brilliant light of the moon.

They next crossed another wood where the leaves were sprinkled with
gold, and after that another still, where the leaves glittered with
diamonds.

At last the Star Gazer perceived a large lake, and on the shores of
the lake twelve little boats with awnings, in which were seated twelve
princes, who, grasping their oars, awaited the princesses.

Each princess entered one of the boats, and Michael slipped into that
which held the youngest. The boats glided along rapidly, but Lina’s,
from being heavier, was always behind the rest. ‘We never went so slowly
before,’ said the Princess; ‘what can be the reason?’

‘I don’t know,’ answered the Prince. ‘I assure you I am rowing as hard
as I can.’

On the other side of the lake the garden boy saw a beautiful castle
splendidly illuminated, whence came the lively music of fiddles,
kettle-drums, and trumpets.

In a moment they touched land, and the company jumped out of the boats;
and the princes, after having securely fastened their barques, gave
their arms to the princesses and conducted them to the castle.

VIII

Michael followed, and entered the ball-room in their train. Everywhere
were mirrors, lights, flowers, and damask hangings.

The Star Gazer was quite bewildered at the magnificence of the sight.

He placed himself out of the way in a corner, admiring the grace and
beauty of the princesses. Their loveliness was of every kind. Some were
fair and some were dark; some had chestnut hair, or curls darker still,
and some had golden locks. Never were so many beautiful princesses seen
together at one time, but the one whom the cow-boy thought the most
beautiful and the most fascinating was the little Princess with the
velvet eyes.

With what eagerness she danced! leaning on her partner’s shoulder she
swept by like a whirlwind. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled, and it
was plain that she loved dancing better than anything else.

The poor boy envied those handsome young men with whom she danced so
gracefully, but he did not know how little reason he had to be jealous
of them.

The young men were really the princes who, to the number of fifty at
least, had tried to steal the princesses’ secret. The princesses had
made them drink something of a philtre, which froze the heart and left
nothing but the love of dancing.

IX

They danced on till the shoes of the princesses were worn into holes.
When the cock crowed the third time the fiddles stopped, and a delicious
supper was served by negro boys, consisting of sugared orange flowers,
crystallised rose leaves, powdered violets, cracknels, wafers, and other
dishes, which are, as everyone knows, the favourite food of princesses.

After supper, the dancers all went back to their boats, and this time
the Star Gazer entered that of the eldest Princess. They crossed again
the wood with the diamond-spangled leaves, the wood with gold-sprinkled
leaves, and the wood whose leaves glittered with drops of silver, and as
a proof of what he had seen, the boy broke a small branch from a tree in
the last wood. Lina turned as she heard the noise made by the breaking
of the branch.

‘What was that noise?’ she said.

‘It was nothing,’ replied her eldest sister; ‘it was only the screech of
the barn-owl that roosts in one of the turrets of the castle.’

While she was speaking Michael managed to slip in front, and running up
the staircase, he reached the princesses’ room first. He flung open
the window, and sliding down the vine which climbed up the wall, found
himself in the garden just as the sun was beginning to rise, and it was
time for him to set to his work.

X

That day, when he made up the bouquets, Michael hid the branch with the
silver drops in the nosegay intended for the youngest Princess.

When Lina discovered it she was much surprised. However, she said
nothing to her sisters, but as she met the boy by accident while she was
walking under the shade of the elms, she suddenly stopped as if to speak
to him; then, altering her mind, went on her way.

The same evening the twelve sisters went again to the ball, and the Star
Gazer again followed them and crossed the lake in Lina’s boat. This time
it was the Prince who complained that the boat seemed very heavy.

‘It is the heat,’ replied the Princess. ‘I, too, have been feeling very
warm.’

During the ball she looked everywhere for the gardener’s boy, but she
never saw him.

As they came back, Michael gathered a branch from the wood with the
gold-spangled leaves, and now it was the eldest Princess who heard the
noise that it made in breaking.

‘It is nothing,’ said Lina; ‘only the cry of the owl which roosts in the
turrets of the castle.’

XI

As soon as she got up she found the branch in her bouquet. When the
sisters went down she stayed a little behind and said to the cow-boy:
‘Where does this branch come from?’

‘Your Royal Highness knows well enough,’ answered Michael.

‘So you have followed us?’

‘Yes, Princess.’

‘How did you manage it? we never saw you.’

‘I hid myself,’ replied the Star Gazer quietly.

The Princess was silent a moment, and then said:

‘You know our secret!–keep it. Here is the reward of your discretion.’
And she flung the boy a purse of gold.

‘I do not sell my silence,’ answered Michael, and he went away without
picking up the purse.

For three nights Lina neither saw nor heard anything extraordinary; on
the fourth she heard a rustling among the diamond-spangled leaves of the
wood. That day there was a branch of the trees in her bouquet.

She took the Star Gazer aside, and said to him in a harsh voice:

‘You know what price my father has promised to pay for our secret?’

‘I know, Princess,’ answered Michael.

‘Don’t you mean to tell him?’

‘That is not my intention.’

‘Are you afraid?’

‘No, Princess.’

‘What makes you so discreet, then?’

But Michael was silent.

XII

Lina’s sisters had seen her talking to the little garden boy, and jeered
at her for it.

‘What prevents your marrying him?’ asked the eldest, ‘you would become
a gardener too; it is a charming profession. You could live in a cottage
at the end of the park, and help your husband to draw up water from the
well, and when we get up you could bring us our bouquets.’

The Princess Lina was very angry, and when the Star Gazer presented her
bouquet, she received it in a disdainful manner.

Michael behaved most respectfully. He never raised his eyes to her, but
nearly all day she felt him at her side without ever seeing him.

One day she made up her mind to tell everything to her eldest sister.

‘What!’ said she, ‘this rogue knows our secret, and you never told me! I
must lose no time in getting rid of him.’

‘But how?’

‘Why, by having him taken to the tower with the dungeons, of course.’

For this was the way that in old times beautiful princesses got rid of
people who knew too much.

But the astonishing part of it was that the youngest sister did not seem
at all to relish this method of stopping the mouth of the gardener’s
boy, who, after all, had said nothing to their father.

XIII

It was agreed that the question should be submitted to the other ten
sisters. All were on the side of the eldest. Then the youngest sister
declared that if they laid a finger on the little garden boy, she would
herself go and tell their father the secret of the holes in their shoes.

At last it was decided that Michael should be put to the test; that they
would take him to the ball, and at the end of supper would give him the
philtre which was to enchant him like the rest.

They sent for the Star Gazer, and asked him how he had contrived to
learn their secret; but still he remained silent.

Then, in commanding tones, the eldest sister gave him the order they had
agreed upon.

He only answered:

‘I will obey.’

He had really been present, invisible, at the council of princesses, and
had heard all; but he had made up his mind to drink of the philtre, and
sacrifice himself to the happiness of her he loved.

Not wishing, however, to cut a poor figure at the ball by the side of
the other dancers, he went at once to the laurels, and said:

‘My lovely rose laurel, with the golden rake I have raked thee, with
the golden bucket I have watered thee, with a silken towel I have dried
thee. Dress me like a prince.’

A beautiful pink flower appeared. Michael gathered it, and found himself
in a moment clothed in velvet, which was as black as the eyes of the
little Princess, with a cap to match, a diamond aigrette, and a blossom
of the rose laurel in his button-hole.

Thus dressed, he presented himself that evening before the Duke of
Beloeil, and obtained leave to try and discover his daughters’ secret.
He looked so distinguished that hardly anyone would have known who he
was.

XIV

The twelve princesses went upstairs to bed. Michael followed them, and
waited behind the open door till they gave the signal for departure.

This time he did not cross in Lina’s boat. He gave his arm to the eldest
sister, danced with each in turn, and was so graceful that everyone
was delighted with him. At last the time came for him to dance with the
little Princess. She found him the best partner in the world, but he did
not dare to speak a single word to her.

When he was taking her back to her place she said to him in a mocking
voice:

‘Here you are at the summit of your wishes: you are being treated like a
prince.’

‘Don’t be afraid,’ replied the Star Gazer gently. ‘You shall never be a
gardener’s wife.’

The little Princess stared at him with a frightened face, and he left
her without waiting for an answer.

When the satin slippers were worn through the fiddles stopped, and the
negro boys set the table. Michael was placed next to the eldest sister,
and opposite to the youngest.

They gave him the most exquisite dishes to eat, and the most delicate
wines to drink; and in order to turn his head more completely,
compliments and flattery were heaped on him from every side.

But he took care not to be intoxicated, either by the wine or the
compliments.

XV

At last the eldest sister made a sign, and one of the black pages
brought in a large golden cup.

‘The enchanted castle has no more secrets for you,’ she said to the Star
Gazer. ‘Let us drink to your triumph.’

He cast a lingering glance at the little Princess, and without
hesitation lifted the cup.

‘Don’t drink!’ suddenly cried out the little Princess; ‘I would rather
marry a gardener.’

And she burst into tears.

Michael flung the contents of the cup behind him, sprang over the table,
and fell at Lina’s feet. The rest of the princes fell likewise at the
knees of the princesses, each of whom chose a husband and raised him to
her side. The charm was broken.

The twelve couples embarked in the boats, which crossed back many times
in order to carry over the other princes. Then they all went through
the three woods, and when they had passed the door of the underground
passage a great noise was heard, as if the enchanted castle was
crumbling to the earth.

They went straight to the room of the Duke of Beloeil, who had just
awoke. Michael held in his hand the golden cup, and he revealed the
secret of the holes in the shoes.

‘Choose, then,’ said the Duke, ‘whichever you prefer.’

‘My choice is already made,’ replied the garden boy, and he offered his
hand to the youngest Princess, who blushed and lowered her eyes.

XVI

The Princess Lina did not become a gardener’s wife; on the contrary, it
was the Star Gazer who became a Prince: but before the marriage ceremony
the Princess insisted that her lover should tell her how he came to
discover the secret.

So he showed her the two laurels which had helped him, and she, like a
prudent girl, thinking they gave him too much advantage over his wife,
cut them off at the root and threw them in the fire. And this is why the
country girls go about singing:

Nous n’irons plus au bois,
Les lauriers sont coupes,’
and dancing in summer by the light of the moon.

Weekend Bloggy Reading

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The Story of Manus


Far away over the sea of the West there reigned a king who had two
sons; and the name of the one was Oireal, and the name of the other
was Iarlaid. When the boys were still children, their father and mother
died, and a great council was held, and a man was chosen from among
them who would rule the kingdom till the boys were old enough to rule it
themselves.

The years passed on, and by-and-by another council was held, and it was
agreed that the king’s sons were now of an age to take the power which
rightly belonged to them. So the youths were bidden to appear before the
council, and Oireal the elder was smaller and weaker than his brother.

‘I like not to leave the deer on the hill and the fish in the rivers,
and sit in judgment on my people,’ said Oireal, when he had listened to
the words of the chief of the council. And the chief waxed angry, and
answered quickly:

‘Not one clod of earth shall ever be yours if this day you do not take
on yourself the vows that were taken by the king your father.’

Then spake Iarlaid, the younger, and he said: ‘Let one half be yours,
and the other give to me; then you will have fewer people to rule over.’

‘Yes, I will do that,’ answered Oireal.

After this, one half of the men of the land of Lochlann did homage to
Oireal, and the other half to Iarlaid. And they governed their kingdoms
as they would, and in a few years they became grown men with beards on
their chins; and Iarlaid married the daughter of the king of Greece, and
Oireal the daughter of the king of Orkney. The next year sons were born
to Oireal and Iarlaid; and the son of Oireal was big and strong, but the
son of Iarlaid was little and weak, and each had six foster brothers who
went everywhere with the princes.

One day Manus, son of Oireal, and his cousin, the son of Iarlaid, called
to their foster brothers, and bade them come and play a game at shinny
in the great field near the school where they were taught all that
princes and nobles should know. Long they played, and swiftly did the
ball pass from one to another, when Manus drove the ball at his cousin,
the son of Iarlaid. The boy, who was not used to be roughly handled,
even in jest, cried out that he was sorely hurt, and went home with his
foster brothers and told his tale to his mother. The wife of Iarlaid
grew white and angry as she listened, and thrusting her son aside,
sought the council hall where Iarlaid was sitting.

‘Manus has driven a ball at my son, and fain would have slain him,’ said
she. ‘Let an end be put to him and his ill deeds.’

But Iarlaid answered:

‘Nay, I will not slay the son of my brother.’

‘And he shall not slay my son,’ said the queen. And calling to her
chamberlain she ordered him to lead the prince to the four brown
boundaries of the world, and to leave him there with a wise man, who
would care for him, and let no harm befall him. And the wise man set the
boy on the top of a hill where the sun always shone, and he could see
every man, but no man could see him.

Then she summoned Manus to the castle, and for a whole year she kept him
fast, and his own mother could not get speech of him. But in the end,
when the wife of Oireal fell sick, Manus fled from the tower which was
his prison, and stole back to his on home.

For a few years he stayed there in peace, and then the wife of Iarlaid
his uncle sent for him.

‘It is time that you were married,’ she said, when she saw that Manus
had grown tall and strong like unto Iarlaid. ‘Tall and strong you are,
and comely of face. I know a bride that will suit you well, and that is
the daughter of the mighty earl of Finghaidh, that does homage for his
lands to me. I myself will go with a great following to his house, and
you shall go with me.’

Thus it was done; and though the earl’s wife was eager to keep her
daughter with her yet a while, she was fain to yield, as the wife of
Iarlaid vowed that not a rood of land should the earl have, unless he
did her bidding. But if he would give his daughter to Manus, she would
bestow on him the third part of her own kingdom, with much treasure
beside. This she did, not from love to Manus, but because she wished
to destroy him. So they were married, and rode back with the wife of
Iarlaid to her own palace. And that night, while he was sleeping, there
came a wise man, who was his father’s friend, and awoke him saying:
‘Danger lies very close to you, Manus, son of Oireal. You hold yourself
favoured because you have as a bride the daughter of a mighty earl; but
do you know what bride the wife of Iarlaid sought for her own son? It
was no worldly wife she found for him, but the swift March wind, and
never can you prevail against her.’

‘Is it thus?’ answered Manu. And at the first streak of dawn he went to
the chamber where the queen lay in the midst of her maidens.

‘I have come,’ he said, ‘for the third part of the kingdom, and for the
treasure which you promised me.’ But the wife of Iarlaid laughed as she
heard him.

‘Not a clod shall you have here,’ spake she. ‘You must go to the Old
Bergen for that. Mayhap under its stones and rough mountains you may
find a treasure!’

‘Then give me your son’s six foster brothers as well as my own,’
answered he. And the queen gave them to him, and they set out for Old
Bergen.

A year passed by, and found them still in that wild land, hunting the
reindeer, and digging pits for the mountain sheep to fall into. For a
time Manus and his companions lived merrily, but at length Manus grew
weary of the strange country, and they all took ship for the land of
Lochlann. The wind was fierce and cold, and long was the voyage; but,
one spring day, they sailed into the harbour that lay beneath the castle
of Iarlaid. The queen looked from her window and beheld him mounting the
hill, with the twelve foster brothers behind him. Then she said to her
husband: ‘Manus has returned with his twelve foster brothers. Would that
I could put an end to him and his murdering and his slaying.’

‘That were a great pity,’ answered Iarlaid. ‘And it is not I that will
do it.’

‘If you will not do it I will,’ said she. And she called the twelve
foster brothers and made them vow fealty to herself. So Manus was left
with no man, and sorrowful was he when he returned alone to Old Bergen.
It was late when his foot touched the shore, and took the path towards
the forest. On his way there met him a man in a red tunic.

‘Is it you, Manus, come back again?’ asked he.

‘It is I,’ answered Manus; ‘alone have I returned from the land of
Lochlann.’

The man eyed him silently for a moment, and then he said:

‘I dreamed that you were girt with a sword and became king of Lochlann.’
But Manus answered:

‘I have no sword and my bow is broken.’

‘I will give you a new sword if you will make me a promise,’ said the
man once more.

‘To be sure I will make it, if ever I am king,’ answered Manus. ‘But
speak, and tell me what promise I am to make.’

‘I was your grandfather’s armourer,’ replied the man, ‘and I wish to be
your armourer also.’

‘That I will promise readily,’ said Manus; and followed the man into his
house, which was at a little distance. But the house was not like other
houses, for the walls of every room were hung so thick with arms that
you could not see the boards.

‘Choose what you will,’ said the man; and Manus unhooked a sword and
tried it across his knee, and it broke, and so did the next, and the
next.

‘Leave off breaking the swords,’ cried the man, ‘and look at this old
sword and helmet and tunic that I wore in the wars of your grandfather.
Perhaps you may find them of stouter steel.’ And Manus bent the sword
thrice across his knee but he could not break it. So he girded it to his
side, and put on the old helmet. As he fastened the strap his eye fell
on a cloth flapping outside the window.

‘What cloth is that?’ asked he.

‘It is a cloth that was woven by the Little People of the forest,’ said
the man; ‘and when you are hungry it will give you food and drink, and
if you meet a foe, he will not hurt you, but will stoop and kiss the
back of your hand in token of submission. Take it, and use it well.’
Manus gladly wrapped the shawl round his arm, and was leaving the house,
when he heard the rattling of a chain blown by the wind.

‘What chain is that?’ asked he.

‘The creature who has that chain round his neck, need not fear a hundred
enemies,’ answered the armourer. And Manus wound it round him and passed
on into the forest.

Suddenly there sprang out from the bushes two lions, and a lion cub with
them. The fierce beasts bounded towards him, roaring loudly, and would
fain have eaten him, but quickly Manus stooped and spread the cloth upon
the ground. At that the lions stopped, and bowing their great heads,
kissed the back of his wrist and went their ways. But the cub rolled
itself up in the cloth; so Manus picked them both up, and carried them
with him to Old Bergen.

Another year went by, and then he took the lion cub and set forth to the
land of Lochlann. And the wife of Iarlaid came to meet him, and a brown
dog, small but full of courage, came with her. When the dog beheld the
lion cub he rushed towards him, thinking to eat him; but the cub caught
the dog by the neck, and shook him, and he was dead. And the wife of
Iarlaid mourned him sore, and her wrath was kindled, and many times she
tried to slay Manus and his cub, but she could not. And at last they two
went back to Old Bergen, and the twelve foster brothers went also.

‘Let them go,’ said the wife of Iarlaid, when she heard of it. ‘My
brother the Red Gruagach will take the head off Manus as well in Old
Bergen as elsewhere.’

Now these words were carried by a messenger to the wife of Oireal, and
she made haste and sent a ship to Old Bergen to bear away her son before
the Red Gruagach should take the head off him. And in the ship was a
pilot. But the wife of Iarlaid made a thick fog to cover the face of the
sea, and the rowers could not row, lest they should drive the ship on
to a rock. And when night came, the lion cub, whose eyes were bright
and keen, stole up to Manus, and Manus got on his back, and the lion cub
sprang ashore and bade Manus rest on the rock and wait for him. So Manus
slept, and by-and-by a voice sounded in his ears, saying: ‘Arise!’ And
he saw a ship in the water beneath him, and in the ship sat the lion cup
in the shape of the pilot.

Then they sailed away through the fog, and none saw them; and they
reached the land of Lochlann, and the lion cub with the chain round his
neck sprang from the ship and Manus followed after. And the lion cub
killed all the men that guarded the castle, and Iarlaid and his wife
also, so that, in the end, Manus son of Oireal was crowned king of
Lochlann.

[Adapted from Contes Berberes.]

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The Black Thief and Knight of the Glen


In times of yore there was a King and a Queen in the south of Ireland
who had three sons, all beautiful children; but the Queen, their mother,
sickened unto death when they were yet very young, which caused great
grief throughout the Court, particularly to the King, her husband, who
could in no wise be comforted. Seeing that death was drawing near her,
she called the King to her and spoke as follows:

‘I am now going to leave you, and as you are young and in your prime, of
course after my death you will marry again. Now all the request I ask of
you is that you will build a tower in an island in the sea, wherein you
will keep your three sons until they are come of age and fit to do for
themselves; so that they may not be under the power or jurisdiction of
any other woman. Neglect not to give them education suitable to
their birth, and let them be trained up to every exercise and pastime
requisite for king’s sons to learn. This is all I have to say, so
farewell.’

The King had scarce time, with tears in his eyes, to assure her she
should be obeyed in everything, when she, turning herself in her bed,
with a smile gave up the ghost. Never was greater mourning seen than was
throughout the Court and the whole kingdom; for a better woman than
the Queen, to rich and poor, was not to be found in the world. She was
interred with great pomp and magnificence, and the King, her husband,
became in a manner inconsolable for the loss of her. However, he caused
the tower to be built and his sons placed in it, under proper guardians,
according to his promise.

In process of time the lords and knights of the kingdom counselled the
King (as he was young) to live no longer as he had done, but to take
a wife; which counsel prevailing, they chose him a rich and beautiful
princess to be his consort–a neighbouring King’s daughter, of whom he
was very fond. Not long after, the Queen had a fine son, which caused
great feasting and rejoicing at the Court, insomuch that the late Queen,
in a manner, was entirely forgotten. That fared well, and King and Queen
lived happy together for several years.

At length the Queen, having some business with the hen-wife, went
herself to her, and, after a long conference passed, was taking leave of
her, when the hen-wife prayed that if ever she should come back to her
again she might break her neck. The Queen, greatly incensed at such a
daring insult from one of her meanest subjects, demanded immediately the
reason, or she would have her put to death.

‘It was worth your while, madam,’ says the hen-wife, ‘to pay me well for
it, for the reason I prayed so on you concerns you much.’

‘What must I pay you?’ asked the Queen.

‘You must give me,’ says she, ‘the full of a pack of wool, and I have an
ancient crock which you must fill with butter, likewise a barrel which
you must fill for me full of wheat.’

‘How much wool will it take to the pack?’ says the Queen.

‘It will take seven herds of sheep,’ said she, ‘and their increase for
seven years.’

‘How much butter will it take to fill your crock?’

‘Seven dairies,’ said she, ‘and their increase for seven years.’

‘And how much will it take to fill the barrel you have?’ says the Queen.

‘It will take the increase of seven barrels of wheat for seven years.’

‘That is a great quantity,’ says the Queen; ‘but the reason must be
extraordinary, and before I want it, I will give you all you demand.’

‘Well,’ says the hen-wife, ‘it is because you are so stupid that you
don’t observe or find out those affairs that are so dangerous and
hurtful to yourself and your child.’

‘What is that?’ says the Queen.

‘Why,’ says she, ‘the King your husband has three fine sons he had by
the late Queen, whom he keeps shut up in a tower until they come of age,
intending to divide the kingdom between them, and let your son push
his fortune; now, if you don’t find some means of destroying them; your
child and perhaps yourself will be left desolate in the end.’

‘And what would you advise me to do?’ said she; ‘I am wholly at a loss
in what manner to act in this affair.’

‘You must make known to the King,’ says the hen-wife, ‘that you heard of
his sons, and wonder greatly that he concealed them all this time from
you; tell him you wish to see them, and that it is full time for them to
be liberated, and that you would be desirous he would bring them to
the Court. The King will then do so, and there will be a great feast
prepared on that account, and also diversions of every sort to amuse the
people; and in these sports,’ said she, ‘ask the King’s sons to play
a game at cards with you, which they will not refuse. Now,’ says
the hen-wife, ‘you must make a bargain, that if you win they must do
whatever you command them, and if they win, that you must do whatever
they command you to do; this bargain must be made before the assembly,
and here is a pack of cards,’ says she, ‘that I am thinking you will not
lose by.’

The Queen immediately took the cards, and, after returning the hen-wife
thanks for her kind instruction, went back to the palace, where she
was quite uneasy until she got speaking to the King in regard of his
children; at last she broke it off to him in a very polite and engaging
manner, so that he could see no muster or design in it. He readily
consented to her desire, and his sons were sent for to the tower,
who gladly came to Court, rejoicing that they were freed from such
confinement. They were all very handsome, and very expert in all arts
and exercises, so that they gained the love and esteem of all that had
seen them.

The Queen, more jealous with them than ever, thought it an age until
all the feasting and rejoicing was over, that she might get making her
proposal, depending greatly on the power of the hen-wife’s cards. At
length this royal assembly began to sport and play at all kinds of
diversions, and the Queen very cunningly challenged the three Princes
to play at cards with her, making bargain with them as she had been
instructed.

They accepted the challenge, and the eldest son and she played the first
game, which she won; then the second son played, and she won that game
likewise; the third son and she then played the last game, and he won
it, which sorely grieved her that she had not him in her power as well
as the rest, being by far the handsomest and most beloved of the three.

However, everyone was anxious to hear the Queen’s commands in regard to
the two Princes, not thinking that she had any ill design in her head
against them. Whether it was the hen-wife instructed her, or whether it
was from her own knowledge, I cannot tell; but she gave out they must
go and bring her the Knight of the Glen’s wild Steed of Bells, or they
should lose their heads.

The young Princes were not in the least concerned, not knowing what they
had to do; but the whole Court was amazed at her demand, knowing very
well that it was impossible for them ever to get the steed, as all that
ever sought him perished in the attempt. However, they could not retract
the bargain, and the youngest Prince was desired to tell what demand he
had on the Queen, as he had won his game.

‘My brothers,’ says he, ‘are now going to travel, and, as I understand,
a perilous journey wherein they know not what road to take or what may
happen them. I am resolved, therefore, not to stay here, but to go with
them, let what will betide; and I request and command, according to my
bargain, that the Queen shall stand on the highest tower of the palace
until we come back (or find out that we are certainly dead), with
nothing but sheaf corn for her food and cold water for her drink, if it
should be for seven years and longer.’

All things being now fixed, the three princes departed the Court in
search of the Knight of the Glen’s palace, and travelling along the road
they came up with a man who was a little lame, and seemed to be somewhat
advanced in years; they soon fell into discourse, and the youngest of
the princes asked the stranger his name, or what was the reason he wore
so remarkable a black cap as he saw on him.

‘I am called,’ said he, ‘the Thief of Sloan, and sometimes the
Black Thief from my cap; ‘and so telling the prince the most of his
adventures, he asked him again where they were bound for, or what they
were about.

The prince, willing to gratify his request, told him their affairs from
the beginning to the end. ‘And now,’ said he, ‘we are travelling, and do
not know whether we are on the right road or not.’

‘Ah! my brave fellows,’ says the Black Thief, ‘you little know the
danger you run. I am after that steed myself these seven years, and
can never steal him on account of a silk covering he has on him in the
stable, with sixty bells fixed to it, and whenever you approach the
place he quickly observes it and shakes himself; which, by the sound
of the bells, not only alarms the prince and his guards, but the whole
country round, so that it is impossible ever to get him, and those that
are so unfortunate as to be taken by the Knight of the Glen are boiled
in a red-hot fiery furnace.’

‘Bless me,’ says the young prince, ‘what will we do? If we return
without the steed we will lose our heads, so I see we are ill fixed on
both sides.’

‘Well,’ says the Thief of Sloan, ‘if it were my case I would rather
die by the Knight than by the wicked Queen; besides, I will go with you
myself and show you the road, and whatever fortune you will have, I will
take chance of the same.’

They returned him sincere thanks for his kindness, and he, being well
acquainted with the road, in a short time brought them within view of
the knight’s castle.

‘Now,’ says he, ‘we must stay here till night comes; for I know all the
ways of the place, and if there be any chance for it, it is when they
are all at rest; for the steed is all the watch the knight keeps there.’

Accordingly, in the dead hour of the night, the King’s three sons and
the Thief of Sloan attempted the Steed of Bells in order to carry him
away, but before they could reach the stables the steed neighed most
terribly and shook himself so, and the bells rung with such noise, that
the knight and all his men were up in a moment.

The Black Thief and the King’s sons thought to make their escape,
but they were suddenly surrounded by the knight’s guards and taken
prisoners; where they were brought into that dismal part of the palace
where the knight kept a furnace always boiling, in which he threw
all offenders that ever came in his way, which in a few moments would
entirely consume them.

‘Audacious villains!’ says the Knight of the Glen, ‘how dare you attempt
so bold an action as to steal my steed? See, now, the reward of your
folly; for your greater punishment I will not boil you all together,
but one after the other, so that he that survives may witness the dire
afflictions of his unfortunate companions.’

So saying he ordered his servants to stir up the fire: ‘We will boil
the eldest-looking of these young men first,’ said he, ‘and so on to the
last, which will be this old champion with the black cap. He seems to be
the captain, and looks as if he had come through many toils.’

‘I was as near death once as the prince is yet,’ says the Black Thief,
‘and escaped; and so will he too.’

‘No, you never were,’ said the knight; ‘for he is within two or three
minutes of his latter end.’

‘But,’ says the Black Thief, ‘I was within one moment of my death, and I
am here yet.’

‘How was that?’ says the knight; ‘I would be glad to hear it, for it
seems impossible.’

‘If you think, sir knight,’ says the Black Thief, ‘that the danger I was
in surpasses that of this young man, will you pardon him his crime?’

‘I will,’ says the knight, ‘so go on with your story.’

‘I was, sir,’ says he, ‘a very wild boy in my youth, and came through
many distresses; once in particular, as I was on my rambling, I was
benighted and could find no lodging. At length I came to an old kiln,
and being much fatigued I went up and lay on the ribs. I had not been
long there when I saw three witches coming in with three bags of gold.
Each put their bags of gold under their heads, as if to sleep. I heard
one of them say to the other that if the Black Thief came on them while
they slept, he would not leave them a penny. I found by their discourse
that everybody had got my name into their mouth, though I kept silent as
death during their discourse. At length they fell fast asleep, and then
I stole softly down, and seeing some turf convenient, I placed one
under each of their heads, and off I went, with their gold, as fast as I
could.

‘I had not gone far,’ continued the Thief of Sloan, ‘until I saw a
grey-hound, a hare, and a hawk in pursuit of me, and began to think it
must be the witches that had taken the shapes in order that I might not
escape them unseen either by land or water. Seeing they did not appear
in any formidable shape, I was more than once resolved to attack them,
thinking that with my broad sword I could easily destroy them. But
considering again that it was perhaps still in their power to become
alive again, I gave over the attempt and climbed with difficulty up
a tree, bringing my sword in my hand and all the gold along with me.
However, when they came to the tree they found what I had done, and
making further use of their hellish art, one of them was changed into a
smith’s anvil and another into a piece of iron, of which the third soon
made a hatchet. Having the hatchet made, she fell to cutting down the
tree, and in the course of an hour it began to shake with me. At length
it began to bend, and I found that one or two blows at the most would
put it down. I then began to think that my death was inevitable,
considering that those who were capable of doing so much would soon end
my life; but just as she had the stroke drawn that would terminate my
fate, the cock crew, and the witches disappeared, having resumed their
natural shapes for fear of being known, and I got safe off with my bags
of gold.

‘Now, sir,’ says he to the Knight of the Glen, ‘if that be not as great
an adventure as ever you heard, to be within one blow of a hatchet of
my end, and that blow even drawn, and after all to escape, I leave it to
yourself.’

‘Well, I cannot say but it is very extraordinary,’ says the Knight of
the Glen, ‘and on that account pardon this young man his crime; so stir
up the fire, till I boil this second one.’

‘Indeed,’ says the Black Thief, ‘I would fain think he would not die
this time either.’

‘How so?’ says the knight; ‘it is impossible for him to escape.’

‘I escaped death more wonderfully myself,’ says the Thief of Sloan,
‘than if you had him ready to throw into the furnace, and I hope it will
be the case with him likewise.’

‘Why, have you been in another great danger?’ says the knight. ‘I would
be glad to hear the story too, and if it be as wonderful as the last, I
will pardon this young man as I did the other.’

‘My way of living, sir,’ says the Black Thief, ‘was not good, as I told
you before; and being at a certain time fairly run out of cash, and
meeting with no enterprise worthy of notice, I was reduced to great
straits. At length a rich bishop died in the neighbourhood I was then
in, and I heard he was interred with a great deal of jewels and rich
robes upon him, all which I intended in a short time to be master of.
Accordingly that very night I set about it, and coming to the place, I
understood he was placed at the further end of a long dark vault, which
I slowly entered. I had not gone in far until I heard a foot coming
towards me with a quick pace, and although naturally bold and daring,
yet, thinking of the deceased bishop and the crime I was engaged in, I
lost courage, and ran towards the entrance of the vault. I had retreated
but a few paces when I observed, between me and the light, the figure of
a tall black man standing in the entrance. Being in great fear and not
knowing how to pass, I fired a pistol at him, and he immediately fell
across the entrance. Perceiving he still retained the figure of a
mortal man, I began to imagine that it could not be the bishop’s ghost;
recovering myself therefore from the fear I was in, I ventured to the
upper end of the vault, where I found a large bundle, and upon further
examination I found that the corpse was already rifled, and that which
I had taken to be a ghost was no more than one of his own clergy. I was
then very sorry that I had the misfortune to kill him, but it then could
not be helped. I took up the bundle that contained everything belonging
to the corpse that was valuable, intending to take my departure from
this melancholy abode; but just as I came to the mouth of the entrance I
saw the guards of the place coming towards me, and distinctly heard them
saying that they would look in the vault, for that the Black Thief would
think little of robbing the corpse if he was anywhere in the place.
I did not then know in what manner to act, for if I was seen I would
surely lose my life, as everybody had a look-out at that time, and
because there was no person bold enough to come in on me. I knew very
well on the first sight of me that could be got, I would be shot like a
dog. However, I had not time to lose. I took and raised up the man which
I had killed, as if he was standing on his feet, and I, crouching behind
him, bore him up as well as I could, so that the guards readily saw him
as they came up to the vault. Seeing the man in black, one of the men
cried that was the Black Thief, and, presenting his piece, fired at
the man, at which I let him fall, and crept into a little dark corner
myself, that was at the entrance of the place. When they saw the man
fall, they ran all into the vault, and never stopped until they were at
the end of it, for fear, as I thought, that there might be some others
along with him that was killed. But while they were busy inspecting the
corpse and the vault to see what they could miss, I slipped out, and,
once away, and still away; but they never had the Black Thief in their
power since.’

‘Well, my brave fellow,’ says the Knight of the Glen, ‘I see you have
come through many dangers: you have freed these two princes by your
stories; but I am sorry myself that this young prince has to suffer for
all. Now, if you could tell me something as wonderful as you have told
already, I would pardon him likewise; I pity this youth and do not want
to put him to death if I could help it.’

‘That happens well,’ says the Thief of Sloan, ‘for I like him best
myself, and have reserved the most curious passage for the last on his
account.’

‘Well, then,’ says the knight, ‘let us hear it.’

‘I was one day on my travels,’ says the Black Thief, ‘and I came into a
large forest, where I wandered a long time, and could not get out of it.
At length I came to a large castle, and fatigue obliged me to call in
the same, where I found a young woman and a child sitting on her knee,
and she crying. I asked her what made her cry, and where the lord of the
castle was, for I wondered greatly that I saw no stir of servants or any
person about the place.

‘”It is well for you,” says the young woman, “that the lord of this
castle is not at home at present; for he is a monstrous giant, with but
one eye on his forehead, who lives on human flesh. He brought me this
child,” says she, “I do not know where he got it, and ordered me to
make it into a pie, and I cannot help crying at the command.”

‘I told her that if she knew of any place convenient that I could leave
the child safely I would do it, rather than it should be killed by such
a monster.

‘She told me of a house a distance off where I would get a woman who
would take care of it. “But what will I do in regard of the pie?”

‘”Cut a finger off it,” said I, “and I will bring you in a young
wild pig out of the forest, which you may dress as if it was the child,
and put the finger in a certain place, that if the giant doubts anything
about it you may know where to turn it over at the first, and when he
sees it he will be fully satisfied that the pie is made of the child.”

‘She agreed to the scheme I proposed, and, cutting off the child’s
finger, by her direction I soon had it at the house she told me of, and
brought her the little pig in the place of it. She then made ready the
pie, and after eating and drinking heartily myself, I was just taking my
leave of the young woman when we observed the giant coming through the
castle gates.

‘”Bless me,” said she, “what will you do now? Run away and lie down
among the dead bodies that he has in the room (showing me the place),
and strip off your clothes that he may not know you from the rest if he
has occasion to go that way.”

‘I took her advice, and laid myself down among the rest, as if dead, to
see how he would behave. The first thing I heard was him calling for his
pie. When she set it down before him he swore it smelled like swine’s
flesh, but knowing where to find the finger, she immediately turned it
up, which fairly convinced him of the contrary. The pie only served to
sharpen his appetite, and I heard him sharpening his knife and saying he
must have a collop or two, for he was not near satisfied. But what was
my terror when I heard the giant groping among the bodies, and, fancying
myself, cut the half of my hip off, and took it with him to be roasted.
You may be certain I was in great pain, but the fear of being killed
prevented me from making any complaint. However, when he had eaten all
he began to drink hot liquors in great abundance, so that in a short
time he could not hold up his head, but threw himself on a large creel
he had made for the purpose, and fell fast asleep. When I heard him
snoring, as I was I went up and caused the woman to bind my wound with a
handkerchief; and, taking the giant’s spit, reddened it in the fire, and
ran it through the eye, but was not able to kill him.

‘However, I left the spit sticking in his head, and took to my heels;
but I soon found he was in pursuit of me, although blind; and having an
enchanted ring he threw it at me, and it fell on my big toe and remained
fastened to it.

‘The giant then called to the ring, where it was, and to my great
surprise it made him answer on my foot; and he, guided by the same,
made a leap at me which I had the good luck to observe, and fortunately
escaped the danger. However, I found running was of no use in saving me,
as long as I had the ring on my foot; so I took my sword and cut off the
toe it was fastened on, and threw both into a large fish-pond that was
convenient. The giant called again to the ring, which by the power of
enchantment always made him answer; but he, not knowing what I had done,
imagined it was still on some part of me, and made a violent leap
to seize me, when he went into the pond, over head and ears, and was
drowned. Now, sir knight,’ says the Thief of Sloan, ‘you see what
dangers I came through and always escaped; but, indeed, I am lame for
the want of my toe ever since.’

‘My lord and master,’ says an old woman that was listening all the time,
‘that story is but too true, as I well know, for I am the very woman
that was in the giant’s castle, and you, my lord, the child that I was
to make into a pie; and this is the very man that saved your life, which
you may know by the want of your finger that was taken off, as you have
heard, to deceive the giant.’

The Knight of the Glen, greatly surprised at what he had heard the old
woman tell, and knowing he wanted his finger from his childhood, began
to understand that the story was true enough.

‘And is this my deliverer?’ says he. ‘O brave fellow, I not only pardon
you all, but will keep you with myself while you live, where you shall
feast like princes, and have every attendance that I have myself.’

They all returned thanks on their knees, and the Black Thief told him
the reason they attempted to steal the Steed of Bells, and the necessity
they were under in going home.

‘Well,’ says the Knight of the Glen, ‘if that’s the case I bestow you my
steed rather than this brave fellow should die; so you may go when you
please, only remember to call and see me betimes, that we may know each
other well.’

They promised they would, and with great joy they set off for the King
their father’s palace, and the Black Thief along with them.

The wicked Queen was standing all this time on the tower, and, hearing
the bells ringing at a great distance off, knew very well it was the
princes coming home, and the steed with them, and through spite and
vexation precipitated herself from the tower and was shattered to
pieces.

The three princes lived happy and well during their father’s reign, and
always keeping the Black Thief along with them; but how they did after
the old King’s death is not known.(4)

(4) The Hibernian Tales

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