by Steve Moore
‘I have been told,’ Arcadius said, ‘but that was long ago, and she who told me was my mother, when she was still so young, and sweet, and more than this, alive. I’d think it more than fortune now, to hear the tale again; and more so if it fell from holy lips quite like your own.’
Lilæus then closed up the triptych, sighed and wished he had the more of teeth for assisting pronunciation, and so began his tale.
VII. OF THE PERFECT IMAGE, AND HOW IT CAME TO BE
You know, of course (he started then), how some would say that fair Selene first came down to Earth upon an Orient mountain far away, called Latmos in the land of Asia; but some would say that ‘Asia’ was another world entire. There, they say, she gave her love and visions to the Sleeping Priest Endymion. And he, who woke a bare month ’fore he died and went to heaven in the Moon, passed on the teachings and the visions to that holy college of lunar priests who built the city-temple-state, Selenium, upon the slopes of Latmos.
And just before he died, it’s said, Endymion, unable quite to make the others understand precisely what he’d seen, he fell into a frenzy. Asked for brushes and a palette full of paint; and then he let his dear Selene guide his hand, and paint herself through him. And so she did, and so The Perfect Image came to be. And Endymion, at last come to himself, looked waking on the face and form of his beloved, of she he’d kissed in dreams. Endymion then looked upon the work, and thought that it was good; but when he showed it to his fellow-priests, disaster then occurred. For they were nowhere near as much so sanctified as he in all the mysteries of the lovely lunar light.
The different tellers tell a different tale. Some say that nine went blind, to look upon The Image; and some say ninety-nine; and others yet, they say nine hundred and ninety-nine in all.
However many it may be (I think it one, at most, and even then that seems too many) we know that sweet Selene would not willingly, in any way at all, be the cause of suffering here in the world below the Moon; and the suffering of blindness is, perchance, the worst, for then we cannot see the Moon, the symbol of Selene. And so she took The Perfect Image back, along with loved Endymion, to that fair heaven of the silver light that circles round the Earth below.
Selenium, we know, it grew and throve, and all its learning was enormous; so its library too, and mostly written in its precincts. Some centuries, then, the praises in its temples rose up to the Moon. And yet, at last, the populace about fell into barbarous ways; and so the Selenites they upped and forthwith took to ships, with scriptures, icons, statues and themselves, and sailing for the Land of Dreams, they somehow left their ruined world behind, and came to Paralogres. And here the true religion has been practiced since, for if we stand beneath the Moon, then surely we’ll adore her.
Since then, they say, The Perfect Image has been seen, here in the world below, on more than one occasion (how many times, I do not know; to count would be inane); but only by the pure of heart, when perfect of devotion, for others would go blind. The Moon-Fairies, so they say, they fly about the Earth and show it to the chosen. And I, who have but seen it in my dreams, I think myself so blessed, and hardly dare to hope for more. But to see it with the waking eye… oh, fair young man, I hope you do, for if you do, I’d think myself thrice-blessed indeed, to have offered some small hospitality to one more loved of loved Selene than myself.
VIII. OF SELENE, SPEAKING SOFT IN DREAMS
And so Lilæus spoke, and so, at last, Lilæus ended. Arcadius, fallen into a meditative trance the while, at last aroused himself and thanked the hermit for his story.
‘From what you say,’ the young knight next continued, ‘it seems mayhap that riding out on quest to find The Image may be fruitless. For if the beauteous Moon-Fairies fly the world around and take it to the blessed, then hardly is it in a place to find. So what’s to do?’
‘Why, first, young man,’ Lilæus said, ‘the thing’s not to despair. Rededicate your heart and soul and mind to dear Selene on the instant, and vow you’ll never cease your search, although it may take longer than your life. For even if you never should attain your goal, a life spent in the service of Selene, dearest Goddess of the Moon, and lived all in the lovely light she sheds, so silver from the sky, is reward quite in itself, and more it earns the love of she we both adore.’
‘I’ll gladly take that vow again,’ Arcadius said, ‘although it’s vowed before. And more willingly yet I’ll swear if, in return, I’ll take away a blessing from so holy a hermit as I see before me, to speed me on my quest.’
‘You have it, though you’ll have it once again before you leave. As for what’s to do and where to go from here… well, some would say to take yourself far west, to the Mountain of the Satellites, where centuries past the priests of old Selenium established themselves in lovely Paralogres. A life of study in the libraries, of prayer and contemplation in the temples, or sat upon the snowy peaks among the pines by Moonlight, chanting lunar psalms; well, there’s the path to heaven; and hap before your life ends, you’ll see what you have sought. But for a handsome and a dashing knight… no, I don’t think that’s the way at all.
‘A more romantic fate for you, I think, my boy, and Selene always did smile sweetly on the handsome, for would they not remind her of her dear Endymion? For you, the quest, the bold adventure, the careless smile with all to risk. But where you go and what you do, from here, I simply do not know. And so I’ll ask the Goddess.’
‘You’ll ask Selene?’ Arcadius did exclaim, wide-eyed.
‘She comes to me in dream whene’er I sleep,’ Lilæus said. ‘And so I have her knowledge and her conversation. And, indeed, we should sleep now for, well I know, the sun is much arisen in the sky.’
Then offering up a prayer, or more, Lilæus took him to his pallet; a blanket on an inch of straw. There being nowhere else to sleep, Arcadius then accepted the old man’s invitation, and gladly shared so sanctified a bed. And so they bade each other fond good-day, and put themselves to sleep.
About mid-day Arcadius woke, to find Lilæus muttering Selene’s name and sighing; and more he moaned, and then he gasped and panted; and after that, he lapsed once more to silent sleep. Three times in all, throughout the day, Arcadius heard the same.
And so, at dusk, they rose, and broke their fast with nuts and cheese. And when he thought enough time had passed by to make polite enquiry, Arcadius began the conversation.
‘You dreamt and spoke with fair Selene, old saint?’ he asked. ‘For when I did awake, I heard you speak her name, and… and…’
‘And heard us making love, asleep there in the dream world. Oh, yes, you did; and do not think it impolite to say so. Each day, the Moon no longer shining in the sky, Selene comes, or mayhap sends a dream-emanation of herself, to love me in my sleep, as long ago she loved her own Endymion. It is a special dispensation and a blessing given, although I hardly feel it is deserved, for my withdrawal quite from the world. Most days she comes but once, and more is most auspicious. Three times, it seems to me, must be, at least, an omen.’
‘How blessed you are!’ exclaimed Arcadius then, but added, just a touch uncertain: ‘If ever such a thing should happen to befall me, unworthy as I am, I fear I’d think it was a succubus…’
Lilæus, how he smiled, to hear the question so implied, and how politely was it phrased.
‘Young man,’ he said, a saucy sparkle in his eye. ‘I am, as far as I recall, the more than ninety-one years old, and dear Selene has held me in her arms and loved me each single time I’ve slept, for fully seventy-five of them. If this is not Selene but a succubus, I think I’d have to say she’s rather less than harmful, and if anyone’s gained anything at all from this, I think it must be me. When I was but sixteen she came to me, and sixteen then she seemed herself; and sixteen still she seems to me, though I have aged and aged. I think this rather sweet of her, to stay always the same.
‘Besides all this, she tells me things I need to know.’
‘Forgive me that I ever doubted!’ Arcadius crie
d then, and had to be restrained from throwing himself upon the floor in penance. ‘But has she told you aught of me, or aught I need to know to carry on my quest?’
‘She has indeed, and what she said is this. Some way to south of here, a night or so by horse, there rises up the Silver Castle; and there dwells lovely Lady Luna, beloved of the Moon, and near, some say, as beautiful. So there’s your first-most destination. Ride there, and pass whatever test is set; then afterwards… Selene did not say…’
Arcadius then asked Lilæus if he might see his holy triptych once again, that they might offer thankful prayers together, an hour or so, and so they did, and pleased Selene with their fair devotions. Then Arcadius asked the blessing of Selene and Lilæus both, kissed the old man’s hand for kindness and for guidance, and bade him fond farewell.
Some minutes later, stallion, mule and knight Arcadius were once again upon their way, beneath a starred but cometriven sky.
IX. HOW ARCADIUS CAME TO THE SILVER CASTLE
That night he rode, all through The Deep Green Sea of Leaves, and slept the day away beneath a spreading oak to one side of a shady glade, where roe deer passed upon their way to water at a sun-besparkled stream. With dusk he rose and rode; another moonlit midnight passing by he came at last upon that quite same Latmian hill where soared the bannered Silver Castle, and how his heart rejoiced to see it.
He paused a little then, to dress himself in fine; a purple velvet tabard sewn with tiny opalescent moonstones and pointed up in silver thread (embroidered by his mother; rest her in the Moon); a cap of softest leather dyed the same, and sporting such a pheasant-feather; a massy turquoise ring upon his finger; and in his hands a treasured lute, all set about with nacre, its notes so liquid-sweet that when he played the Moonlight could be heard.
Remounting then, he rode unto the castle gate, all the music of the world there at his fingertips, a song self-writ upon his lips, that spoke of lovely maidens, high adventure, and of that wine of ecstasy that young men drink, by Moonlight, and by starlight, and by the light that only shines in much-loved ladies’ eyes.
And when he was arrived, he asked forthright an interview with lovely Lady Luna. And such a boyish smile was on his face, and how he looked so handsome, the curls all flopping on his brow.
The men-at-arms that stood there at the gate, they greeted him most courteous, and asked him to dismount and take his ease; and yet they would not let him in forthwith. For no one, then they said, had ever yet been admitted straight unto their lovely mistress; and first they had to send for Lady Sweetheart. And ladies being as they are, they could not say when she’d arrive; and so they begged him, pray relax, and take a little wine. And Arcadius thanked them, said he would, but asked besides for water; and so they looked with wonder at a man so moderate.
Arcadius, though, he had his reasons; for sent upon his way by such a holy hermit, already he’d decided quite to treat the Silver Castle as a temple, and lovely Lady Luna as a Goddess; and hardly could he speak to her, all lost in fumes of wine.
X. OF WHAT THE WISE MEN TOLD THEIR FAIR
YOUNG MISTRESS
Within the castle hall, Lady Luna, dressed now in a sheath of silver clinging close about her shapely form, a crystal crescent on her brow and ropes of pearls about her swan-pale neck, sat upon a throne all carved with scenes of Selene and Endymion. Her little hand was held by Lady Sweetheart, standing at her side; before her eyes were gathered all those priests and sages who, before, she’d asked so sweetly to advise her of the comet. The books were closed, the pondering was past, the disputation over; and now they’d come to tell her what she sought.
‘Sweet Mistress,’ old Theophilus began (and how he was so worthy of his name, for how he loved his Goddess), ‘we have consulted much, and searched so much within The Prognostics of the Lunar Night, and so at last we have arrived at nearunanimous conclusions.
‘It is agreed by one and all this comet is unholy, boding ill for all. It portends evil, retreat of Gods, and all those horrors that Selenium’s priests fled long ago, the whence they came to Paralogres.
‘The more we do agree upon the proof against this ill. A quest, successful made, to find The Prefect Image; to hold it, then, up to the sky, and let its radiance cleanse the foulness of the comet-polluted night.
‘But where we come to blows, dear Mistress, is upon the question, who’s to find it. For some of us say man, and some of us say woman; and I alone, abused by all the rest, say both.’
And Lady Luna smiled so wryly then, but before a word was past her lips, a page appeared, informing Lady Sweetheart and herself a minstrel-knight was now presenting compliments at the Gate of Pearl, and asking straight for Lady Luna.
So Lady Sweetheart, though she’d rather stay to hear how Luna did respond, accompanied the page to see what sort of man had wished himself upon them.
XI. THE TESTING OF ARCADIUS
She found him fair indeed, and fairly spoke besides, and all her heart cried out to please him; and rather wished he’d asked for her and not the castle’s mistress. And yet her heart was sweet in truth, and so she did her duty.
She bade the swains to stable both his mounts and porter his belongings; herself she took his hand (the other held his lute; he would not let it go) and led him to the Tower of Moonlight Longing, where guests were always chambered. She saw him fed (a message passed that said ‘no single thing that’s less than best’) and well-supplied with wine; and every thing pertaining to his comfort she ensured, for after all, he was so handsome. And then she left him, returning only with the nearly dawn.
And more, she brought with her a sweet young maiden, who, slightly prompted, introduced herself: ‘Sir, my given name it is Liselle, but twelve years old, no more. And so it please you, lord, I am a virgin; sworn to love Selene, never man.’
Arcadius looked on fair Liselle, and thought she was so charming. He thought no more except to kiss her hand and send her on her way.
‘Not so, Sir Knight!’ said Lady Sweetheart then, a-reading of his thoughts. ‘This is your test, and sir, I somehow think you knew already that you’d have to face it. And, sir, you have to pass it, if you would see Lady Luna.
‘So sleep all day with fair Liselle, quite wrapped up in your arms. And, sir, before the night-time’s come again, then you must breach her maidenhead, and leave her blood all spread across the sheets. But more than this, she must remain a virgin, for she is Selene’s. I leave you with this small conundrum; and if you’ve solved it by the morrow’s night, I’ll take you then to Luna.’
Then Lady Sweetheart did depart. Arcadius took Liselle into his arms, and kissed her oh-so-sweetly.
And though she trembled like a fawn, he took her off to bed.
XII. HOW THE NIGHT-TIME CAME AGAIN, AND WHAT THE DARKNESS DID REVEAL
The bed it lacked for curtains, and so Arcadius thought he would be watched; and so indeed he was, although he hardly could conjecture who might be a-spy. It would, besides have made no difference.
So Lady Luna, informed of all by Lady Sweetheart (and that the stranger was so handsome), saw Arcadius first turn away his sight while Liselle attired herself for bed; and when she was, he stripped down to his undershirt and joined her.
What happened then, a little later, right there within the fullest light of day, gave Lady Luna such a smile; and so she took herself to bed as well, enormously contented.
She did not say what she had seen to Lady Sweetheart, and so she let that darling girl herself find out if Arcadius had passed the test. And so he had, for when she went to fetch him at the fall of dusk, she found Arcadius ready dressed, though still Liselle she slept all innocent.
For when she was no more awake, a little nick he’d made there in her scalp, above the hairline where no mark would ever show; and when the knife had done it’s work, before he stopped the bleeding with a gentle hand, he’d drawn a fingerful and written on the bed ‘intacta’.
And so he’d breached her maiden head, and spread her blood across the sh
eets, and left her yet a virgin.
And Lady Sweetheart smiled and kissed his hand, and full of joy she led him from the room.
XIII. HOW ARCADIUS AND LADY LUNA DID SURPRISE EACH OTHER
A little walk about the Silver Castle (all of shining metal strung about with gleaming gems), and then she brought Arcadius to a private small reception room, where Lady Luna waited, old Theophilus at her side, and half a dozen courtiers.
And Lady Luna, all in silver thread and pearls and crystal, and both her sparkle-eyes so wide and brown, she looked so much like fair Selene; and more, to Arcadius she looked besides just like The Perfect Image come to life. And so he dropped down on one knee, all gallant and all reverent, and hardly could he look.
‘My Lady,’ Sweetheart then began, as formal as the occasion did demand. ‘I present the knight Arcadius… [here she smiled]… your latest suitor…’
‘Oh, no!’ the words escaped Arcadius’ lips before he thought to stop them. ‘Fair Lady… and you are the fairest lady ever I did see, that walked beneath the Moon… forgive me, please, for now I have to tell you that I did not come to woo.
‘Yet seeing you, I know that if I could, I would; for never could a man aspire to any such felicity more delighting than to have you as his wife, unless Selene herself should condescend. But I am vowed to other things.
‘From farthest north, I’ve ridden south, with but one thing in view, to which my life is dedicate. For I am sworn to find The Perfect Image…’
And here he paused, to hear so many indrawn breaths; he could not understand quite why.
‘And so, dear Lady,’ he continued, ‘forgive and understand. Two nights a-gone I came to the holy hermit, old Lilæus, who, I think, you surely know [and here Theophilus nodded sagely]. Consulting with the sage, of how I might continue with my quest, he slept, and dreamed, and loving spoke with sweet Selene. And what she said, through him to me, was I should ride straight here, to your most wondrous Silver Castle, and pass your test perplexing. And after that, alas, she did not say.
