Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women

by George MacDonald

  CHAPTER XX

  “Thou hadst no fame; that which thou didst like good Was but thy appetite that swayed thy blood For that time to the best; for as a blast That through a house comes, usually doth cast Things out of order, yet by chance may come And blow some one thing to his proper room, So did thy appetite, and not thy zeal, Sway thee by chance to do some one thing well.” FLETCHER’S Faithful Shepherdess.

  “The noble hart that harbours vertuous thought And is with childe of glorious great intent, Can never rest, until it forth have brought Th’ eternall brood of glorie excellent.” SPENSER, The Faerie Queene.

  I had not gone very far before I felt that the turf beneath my feet wassoaked with the rising waters. But I reached the isthmus in safety. Itwas rocky, and so much higher than the level of the peninsula, that Ihad plenty of time to cross. I saw on each side of me the water risingrapidly, altogether without wind, or violent motion, or broken waves,but as if a slow strong fire were glowing beneath it. Ascending a steepacclivity, I found myself at last in an open, rocky country. Aftertravelling for some hours, as nearly in a straight line as I could,I arrived at a lonely tower, built on the top of a little hill, whichoverlooked the whole neighbouring country. As I approached, I heardthe clang of an anvil; and so rapid were the blows, that I despaired ofmaking myself heard till a pause in the work should ensue. It wassome minutes before a cessation took place; but when it did, I knockedloudly, and had not long to wait; for, a moment after, the door waspartly opened by a noble-looking youth, half-undressed, glowing withheat, and begrimed with the blackness of the forge. In one hand he helda sword, so lately from the furnace that it yet shone with a dull fire.As soon as he saw me, he threw the door wide open, and standing aside,invited me very cordially to enter. I did so; when he shut and boltedthe door most carefully, and then led the way inwards. He brought meinto a rude hall, which seemed to occupy almost the whole of the groundfloor of the little tower, and which I saw was now being used as aworkshop. A huge fire roared on the hearth, beside which was an anvil.By the anvil stood, in similar undress, and in a waiting attitude,hammer in hand, a second youth, tall as the former, but far moreslightly built. Reversing the usual course of perception in suchmeetings, I thought them, at first sight, very unlike; and at the secondglance, knew that they were brothers. The former, and apparently theelder, was muscular and dark, with curling hair, and large hazel eyes,which sometimes grew wondrously soft. The second was slender and fair,yet with a countenance like an eagle, and an eye which, though paleblue, shone with an almost fierce expression. He stood erect, as iflooking from a lofty mountain crag, over a vast plain outstretchedbelow. As soon as we entered the hall, the elder turned to me, and I sawthat a glow of satisfaction shone on both their faces. To my surpriseand great pleasure, he addressed me thus:

  “Brother, will you sit by the fire and rest, till we finish this part ofour work?”

  I signified my assent; and, resolved to await any disclosure they mightbe inclined to make, seated myself in silence near the hearth.

  The elder brother then laid the sword in the fire, covered it well over,and when it had attained a sufficient degree of heat, drew it out andlaid it on the anvil, moving it carefully about, while the younger, witha succession of quick smart blows, appeared either to be welding it,or hammering one part of it to a consenting shape with the rest. Havingfinished, they laid it carefully in the fire; and, when it was veryhot indeed, plunged it into a vessel full of some liquid, whence a blueflame sprang upwards, as the glowing steel entered.

  There they left it; and drawing two stools to the fire, sat down, one oneach side of me.

  “We are very glad to see you, brother. We have been expecting you forsome days,” said the dark-haired youth.

  “I am proud to be called your brother,” I rejoined; “and you will notthink I refuse the name, if I desire to know why you honour me with it?”

  “Ah! then he does not know about it,” said the younger. “We thought youhad known of the bond betwixt us, and the work we have to do together.You must tell him, brother, from the first.”

  So the elder began:

  “Our father is king of this country. Before we were born, three giantbrothers had appeared in the land. No one knew exactly when, and no onehad the least idea whence they came. They took possession of a ruinedcastle that had stood unchanged and unoccupied within the memory of anyof the country people. The vaults of this castle had remained uninjuredby time, and these, I presume, they made use of at first. They wererarely seen, and never offered the least injury to any one; so that theywere regarded in the neighbourhood as at least perfectly harmless, ifnot rather benevolent beings. But it began to be observed, that the oldcastle had assumed somehow or other, no one knew when or how, a somewhatdifferent look from what it used to have. Not only were several breachesin the lower part of the walls built up, but actually some of thebattlements which yet stood, had been repaired, apparently to preventthem from falling into worse decay, while the more important parts werebeing restored. Of course, every one supposed the giants must have ahand in the work, but no one ever saw them engaged in it. The peasantsbecame yet more uneasy, after one, who had concealed himself, andwatched all night, in the neighbourhood of the castle, reported that hehad seen, in full moonlight, the three huge giants working with mightand main, all night long, restoring to their former position somemassive stones, formerly steps of a grand turnpike stair, a greatportion of which had long since fallen, along with part of the wallof the round tower in which it had been built. This wall they werecompleting, foot by foot, along with the stair. But the people saidthey had no just pretext for interfering: although the real reason forletting the giants alone was, that everybody was far too much afraid ofthem to interrupt them.

  “At length, with the help of a neighbouring quarry, the whole of theexternal wall of the castle was finished. And now the country folks werein greater fear than before. But for several years the giants remainedvery peaceful. The reason of this was afterwards supposed to be thefact, that they were distantly related to several good people in thecountry; for, as long as these lived, they remained quiet; but as soonas they were all dead the real nature of the giants broke out. Havingcompleted the outside of their castle, they proceeded, by spoiling thecountry houses around them, to make a quiet luxurious provision fortheir comfort within. Affairs reached such a pass, that the news oftheir robberies came to my father’s ears; but he, alas! was so crippledin his resources, by a war he was carrying on with a neighbouringprince, that he could only spare a very few men, to attempt the captureof their stronghold. Upon these the giants issued in the night, and slewevery man of them. And now, grown bolder by success and impunity, theyno longer confined their depredations to property, but began to seizethe persons of their distinguished neighbours, knights and ladies, andhold them in durance, the misery of which was heightened by allmanner of indignity, until they were redeemed by their friends, at anexorbitant ransom. Many knights have adventured their overthrow, but totheir own instead; for they have all been slain, or captured, or forcedto make a hasty retreat. To crown their enormities, if any man nowattempts their destruction, they, immediately upon his defeat, put oneor more of their captives to a shameful death, on a turret in sight ofall passers-by; so that they have been much less molested of late;and we, although we have burned, for years, to attack these demonsand destroy them, dared not, for the sake of their captives, risk theadventure, before we should have reached at least our earliest manhood.Now, however, we are preparing for the attempt; and the grounds ofthis preparation are these. Having only the resolution, and not theexperience necessary for the undertaking, we went and consulted a lonelywoman of wisdom, who lives not very far from here, in the direction ofthe quarter from which you have come. She received us most kindly, andgave us what seems to us the best of advice. She first inquired whatexperience we
had had in arms. We told her we had been well exercisedfrom our boyhood, and for some years had kept ourselves in constantpractice, with a view to this necessity.

  “‘But you have not actually fought for life and death?’ said she.

  “We were forced to confess we had not.

  “‘So much the better in some respects,’ she replied. ‘Now listen to me.Go first and work with an armourer, for as long time as you find needfulto obtain a knowledge of his craft; which will not be long, seeing yourhearts will be all in the work. Then go to some lonely tower, you twoalone. Receive no visits from man or woman. There forge for yourselvesevery piece of armour that you wish to wear, or to use, in your comingencounter. And keep up your exercises. As, however, two of you can be nomatch for the three giants, I will find you, if I can, a third brother,who will take on himself the third share of the fight, and thepreparation. Indeed, I have already seen one who will, I think, be thevery man for your fellowship, but it will be some time before he comesto me. He is wandering now without an aim. I will show him to you in aglass, and, when he comes, you will know him at once. If he will shareyour endeavours, you must teach him all you know, and he will repay youwell, in present song, and in future deeds.’

  “She opened the door of a curious old cabinet that stood in the room.On the inside of this door was an oval convex mirror. Looking in it forsome time, we at length saw reflected the place where we stood, and theold dame seated in her chair. Our forms were not reflected. But at thefeet of the dame lay a young man, yourself, weeping.

  “‘Surely this youth will not serve our ends,’ said I, ‘for he weeps.’

  “The old woman smiled. ‘Past tears are present strength,’ said she.

  “‘Oh!’ said my brother, ‘I saw you weep once over an eagle you shot.’

  “‘That was because it was so like you, brother,’ I replied; ‘but indeed,this youth may have better cause for tears than that--I was wrong.’

  “‘Wait a while,’ said the woman; ‘if I mistake not, he will make youweep till your tears are dry for ever. Tears are the only cure forweeping. And you may have need of the cure, before you go forth to fightthe giants. You must wait for him, in your tower, till he comes.’

  “Now if you will join us, we will soon teach you to make your armour;and we will fight together, and work together, and love each other asnever three loved before. And you will sing to us, will you not?”

  “That I will, when I can,” I answered; “but it is only at times that thepower of song comes upon me. For that I must wait; but I have a feelingthat if I work well, song will not be far off to enliven the labour.”

  This was all the compact made: the brothers required nothing more, andI did not think of giving anything more. I rose, and threw off my uppergarments.

  “I know the uses of the sword,” I said. “I am ashamed of my white handsbeside yours so nobly soiled and hard; but that shame will soon be wipedaway.”

  “No, no; we will not work to-day. Rest is as needful as toil. Bring thewine, brother; it is your turn to serve to-day.”

  The younger brother soon covered a table with rough viands, but goodwine; and we ate and drank heartily, beside our work. Before the mealwas over, I had learned all their story. Each had something in his heartwhich made the conviction, that he would victoriously perish in thecoming conflict, a real sorrow to him. Otherwise they thought they wouldhave lived enough. The causes of their trouble were respectively these:

  While they wrought with an armourer, in a city famed for workmanshipin steel and silver, the elder had fallen in love with a lady asfar beneath him in real rank, as she was above the station he hadas apprentice to an armourer. Nor did he seek to further his suit bydiscovering himself; but there was simply so much manhood about him,that no one ever thought of rank when in his company. This is what hisbrother said about it. The lady could not help loving him in return. Hetold her when he left her, that he had a perilous adventure before him,and that when it was achieved, she would either see him return to claimher, or hear that he had died with honour. The younger brother’s griefarose from the fact, that, if they were both slain, his old father, theking, would be childless. His love for his father was so exceeding, thatto one unable to sympathise with it, it would have appeared extravagant.Both loved him equally at heart; but the love of the younger hadbeen more developed, because his thoughts and anxieties had not beenotherwise occupied. When at home, he had been his constant companion;and, of late, had ministered to the infirmities of his growing age. Theyouth was never weary of listening to the tales of his sire’s youthfuladventures; and had not yet in the smallest degree lost the conviction,that his father was the greatest man in the world. The grandest triumphpossible to his conception was, to return to his father, laden with thespoils of one of the hated giants. But they both were in some dread,lest the thought of the loneliness of these two might occur to them,in the moment when decision was most necessary, and disturb, in somedegree, the self-possession requisite for the success of their attempt.For, as I have said, they were yet untried in actual conflict. “Now,” thought I, “I see to what the powers of my gift must minister.” For myown part, I did not dread death, for I had nothing to care to live for;but I dreaded the encounter because of the responsibility connected withit. I resolved however to work hard, and thus grow cool, and quick, andforceful.

  The time passed away in work and song, in talk and ramble, in friendlyfight and brotherly aid. I would not forge for myself armour of heavymail like theirs, for I was not so powerful as they, and depended morefor any success I might secure, upon nimbleness of motion, certainty ofeye, and ready response of hand. Therefore I began to make for myself ashirt of steel plates and rings; which work, while more troublesome,was better suited to me than the heavier labour. Much assistance did thebrothers give me, even after, by their instructions, I was able to makesome progress alone. Their work was in a moment abandoned, to render anyrequired aid to mine. As the old woman had promised, I tried to repaythem with song; and many were the tears they both shed over my balladsand dirges. The songs they liked best to hear were two which I made forthem. They were not half so good as many others I knew, especially someI had learned from the wise woman in the cottage; but what comes nearestto our needs we like the best.

  I The king sat on his throne Glowing in gold and red; The crown in his right hand shone, And the gray hairs crowned his head.

  His only son walks in, And in walls of steel he stands: Make me, O father, strong to win, With the blessing of holy hands.”

  He knelt before his sire, Who blessed him with feeble smile His eyes shone out with a kingly fire, But his old lips quivered the while.

  “Go to the fight, my son, Bring back the giant’s head; And the crown with which my brows have done, Shall glitter on thine instead.”

  “My father, I seek no crowns, But unspoken praise from thee; For thy people’s good, and thy renown, I will die to set them free.”

  The king sat down and waited there, And rose not, night nor day; Till a sound of shouting filled the air, And cries of a sore dismay.

  Then like a king he sat once more, With the crown upon his head; And up to the throne the people bore A mighty giant dead.

  And up to the throne the people bore A pale and lifeless boy. The king rose up like a prophet of yore, In a lofty, deathlike joy.

  He put the crown on the chilly brow: “Thou should’st have reigned with me But Death is the king of both, and now I go to obey with thee.

  “Surely some good in me there lay, To beget the noble one.” The old man smiled like a winter day, And fell beside his son.

  II “O lady, thy lover is
dead,” they cried; “He is dead, but hath slain the foe; He hath left his name to be magnified In a song of wonder and woe.”

  “Alas! I am well repaid,” said she, “With a pain that stings like joy: For I feared, from his tenderness to me, That he was but a feeble boy.

  “Now I shall hold my head on high, The queen among my kind; If ye hear a sound, ‘tis only a sigh For a glory left behind.”

  The first three times I sang these songs they both wept passionately.But after the third time, they wept no more. Their eyes shone, and theirfaces grew pale, but they never wept at any of my songs again.