~Song of Songs~
The Unicorn Hunt
Mirabella was a maiden fair to look upon and that was enough, at least as far as His Lordship the Duke of Firth was concerned; he needed a lovely maiden and she would suffice. “A Unicorn Hunt?” said she in some surprise but not uneagerly, “and just what does one do with a Unicorn once one has caught it?”
The Duke shrugged, “that is not your concern, nor are such things spoken of to young ladies. Will you assist me?”
She pursed her lips in annoyance when he refused to discuss the matter further, but his offer intrigued her and she could not gainsay him, so readily agreed to assist him in his scheme. A more tenderhearted lady would have balked in concern, wondering what was to be the fate of the poor beast, but Mirabella saw only a chance to impress a Duke, and an unmarried Duke at that. So the next morning, she donned her most beautiful gown, mounted the waiting palfrey, and accompanied the various musicians, singers, and gaily clad courtiers as they set out to find a Unicorn. It was an honored tradition to ride forth with colorful banners and festive music, in hopes of luring one of the mystic creatures within sight of mortal men and in legend at least, he might even lay his head in the lap of a lovely maiden, thus Mirabella’s part in the whole affair.
They rode out eagerly at first, but after an hour or two, as the day waxed warm and the participants began to grow bored and weary, the procession began to lag and the music to sputter. The Duke rode up and down amidst the throng, ordering and threatening the revelers to resume their gaiety or else, which of course increased their pretended exuberance but did nothing to aide their joy. But whether it was pity for the berated performers or that the creatures were just plain foolish, at last the beast emerged from some hidden retreat deep in the woods and showed himself to the weary throng. A brightly clad servant went riding off with all haste in the direction of the castle while the lady dismounted and sat upon the verdant grass of spring, while the musicians and banner bearers drew back in a semicircle, still continuing in their assumed joy. The creature stood for some time studying the procession and then to everyone’s surprise, most especially Mirabella’s, he stepped out of the wood and approached the maiden upon the sward. He stopped a few feet from her and she felt herself studied, as a bird might eye a worm, but he tamely laid his head upon her lap and she felt a very strange sensation wash over her: a true joy beyond the comprehension of mortal man, which the company had been trying their best to mimic but could do so only superficially.
He looked up at her then, with eyes deeper than the fathomless depths of the sea, and said quietly, “alas for you maid, for you have betrayed me; there is no curse more dreadful than living with a faithless heart. Remember me when life becomes too bitter to bear.”
Then the sound of the hunting horn and the baying of hounds filled the air. The musicians ceased and drew away, even as men with spears and bows advanced, with the Duke at their head. The Unicorn stood and eyed them sadly; the girl ducked her head and ran. They made short work of the creature and triumphantly bore him back to the city where the commonfolk waited in dread, having been ordered to so await their lord’s coming. They cheered dully, when the company entered the city and the Duke scowled darkly, causing the feigned excitement to increase in volume, if not in earnestness. The maiden waited in the courtyard for their victorious return and hesitantly approached the slain creature, flinching back in horror as the packhorse started and spattered silver blood upon her face and hands. The Duke laughed harshly at her disgust and ordered preparations begun for the celebratory feast.
He turned to the damsel as he dismounted and offered her his arm. She took it with a grim, triumphant look and allowed him to escort her into the castle. It was a grand celebration, if a bit grim, as many of the celebrants were not in the least proud of that which they commemorated, but the lady sat beside the Duke and thought at last, her dreams had come true. She looked now and again at the slaughtered beast, where it lay in its grim glory on a dais in the middle of the room for all to see, and wondered at his parting words, but no, what wisdom could be found in a mere beast? She had her lord and would be content. But she was far from content, for that night little sleep did she find and in the morning, a horrible discovery did she make. The servants had wiped the silver blood from her hands and face almost immediately, but anywhere the shining fluid had touched, was now white and leprous. She took one look in the mirror and fell to her knees, weeping. Her maidens, hearing this dreadful sound of anguish hastened to their lady but drew back in horror, upon seeing her so afflicted. She stared up at them in utter misery and snarled, “will you shrink from me even so? Away, away with you all!” They fled from her presence in terror.
It was not only the lady, but even the Duke and some of the servants and huntsmen were thus afflicted, for anyone the blood had touched was affected. Strangely, none of the horses or hounds were touched by the curse, but only those that willingly had some part in the creature’s slaughter. The Duke’s right hand was affected, as he had cut the creature’s throat himself, he was far from pleased and even less so when a weeping and panicked Mirabella intruded upon his brooding late in the morning. Roared he at the distraught girl, “leave me in peace wench! What can I do? Ruined your lovely face has it? Well, you need not ever show yourself in my presence again! Be gone!”
And so she fled, weeping all the more, as she had sent her maids flying only an hour previous. The creature’s final words rung in her ears, not tauntingly as she first assumed, but rather a puzzle, a glimmer of hope on the brink of despair. Remember him? She shook her head in consternation, but hastened to where she had last seen the carcass, but the banquet hall was empty and the creature gone. She demanded of the nearest servant, “where is the beast?
The boy shook his head, his eyes full of pity for the afflicted maid, and said, “the master gave orders that it should be taken outside the city and hung well up in a tree that it would be ready for whatever he meant next to do with it.”
She actually thanked the lad as she hastened out of the castle, in search of the beast or whatever remained of it. She felt herself drawn in a certain direction and did not resist this strange impulse, even when it took her two days of scrambling through a rocky wilderness of stunted trees and straggling weeds with no food or water to be found. Finally she heard the sound of a mighty water and a great lawn of new grass and bright flowers greeted her as she crested the final hill. There she saw him, the Unicorn, alive and whole, with eyes as bright and keen as the day she had betrayed him. “You have come,” said he. She nodded, her eyes glowing with a strange joy, but then she dropped her head, the shame and the tears began anew. “Peace child,” said he, “you need not mourn over what has been, at least if you have come seeking pardon rather than merely a cure, for a healed body with a stricken soul is far worse than any bodily ailment.” She knelt beside him, with eager eyes, and found herself whole in body and heart. She glanced about her, eager to thank him, but he was gone.
She stood, stared about herself, in even more despair than when she had first discovered the leprosy, but a gentle breeze stirred amongst the flowers and seemed to whisper, “peace child.” She smiled, but with only a hint of sorrow, and laid herself upon the grass and long was her sleep. When she wakened, the sun was rising over a far hill and she felt fully refreshed and renewed. Knowing she could never go back to the wretched Duke, she set forth, determined to see what lay between those distant hills and the sun’s rising, comforted as she went by a still, small voice that bespoke all peace and joy.
With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.
I chatter, chatter as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on forever.
The Sampler Platter: A Little Bit of Everything Page 116
