At the door was a servant, and they asked him where the Prince was.
“In the garden, your Majesty. I will go and announce your arrival to him.”
But the Princess said:
“Oh no! never mind—you needn’t trouble.”
And they went through into the garden. On the way the Princess said to the doctor:
“I thought you said he was not well enough to get up?”
“I did, your Majesty, but he insisted that he must get up, and be off to India this afternoon, and he was excessively violent when I told him he had better not get up—in fact he—he kicked me downstairs; and if your Majesty has no present need of me I will retire, for to tell the truth he threatened to have me ducked in a horse-pond if I came near him again—and he meant it too.”
So the Princess gave him leave to go—in fact she was rather glad he had gone; and she went on walking down the path. It was one of those old-fashioned manor-gardens, full of tall stiff hollyhocks, and damask roses, and beds of thyme and mint, over which the bees were humming so loudly that they could be heard over the whole garden. As the Princess could not see him down one path, she turned into another alley of stiff holly-bushes, but he was not to be seen down there either; however, she walked fast to the end of it—for you see she was rather impatient. Now it happened that just as she turned the corner, the Prince happened to be coming round too, and the result was that as they were going rather fast, and the Prince was the heavier of the two, the Princess was thrown back with violence against the hedge, and she couldn’t help exclaiming:
“Oh!”—for you see he had trodden on her toe. As for the Prince, he could scarcely stand—for the shock and the sight of the Princess together produced a tremendous effect, as you may imagine—for she was the last person he had expected to see.
“My goodness!” he said, as soon as he was able to speak. “Your Majesty—I hope I haven’t hurt you—I am really very sorry. I am very sorry—will you allow me to help you to a seat?—for I see I have trodden on your foot.”
Her Majesty said:
“Oh no! not at all, thank you.”
But all the same she let him give her his arm, and help her to a seat. It was a rustic seat—one of those queer seats made of branches of trees, and it stood in an arbour formed of rose-bushes, and there was plenty of room for two; so she said:
“Won’t you sit down, Prince?”
But he answered:
“I really have not the time, your Majesty. I was just about to start for India, and if your Majesty has no further need of me I will go, and send an attendant.”
But she did not seem to hear the last part of his sentence, for she answered:
“You were going away without saying good-bye to me. Perhaps, however, you intended to call as you passed the palace.”
“I really had not intended to, your Majesty, for you seemed to have so many affairs that I might have interrupted, that I thought it as well to go without troubling you.”
“You shouldn’t have thought that. You see I have had so many affairs of State occupying me that I could not possibly get round to call, and you didn’t choose to come and see me, which was rather, I think—however, that doesn’t matter now. I have come to ask you to stop a little longer—till the day after to-morrow, if you won’t stop after that.”
But the Prince shook his head:
“I have to go immediately; affairs of State, you know, demand my presence in India, and I must go at once, your Majesty.”
“Can’t you really stop a little, Prince?”
“I really can’t, your Majesty—that is—”
“Oh, please do; I’ll tell you something, if you like. I’ve found out who the Knight of London is.”
“And then, your Majesty?” inquired the Prince.
“I don’t know what else. I—I thought that would be enough for you.”
“I don’t understand you, your Majesty.”
“I mean that when I didn’t know he was a wizard I thought he was very enchanting; but when I found out he was an enchanter, I thought you were enchanter—I mean more enchanting.”
The Prince was just saying:
“Oh, your Majesty,” when a peculiar noise from the back of the arbour made them both start, and the Princess jumped up so violently that the Owl, who had meanwhile gone to sleep, was nearly shaken off her shoulder.
“What was that?” she said.
“It sounded like somebody laughing, or trying to keep from laughing, rather. Just wait a moment, I’ll see who it was.”
And he went round behind the arbour. He soon returned bringing the doctor with him, and the doctor did not seem at all happy either.
“Why,” said the Princess, “I thought you were going to leave me. How is it that you came like this behind the arbour?”
“I might just as well ask your Majesty why you came here.”
“You might, but it would not be answering my question.”
“I happened to come round there, your Majesty, to read a book in the shade, and I happened to drop off to sleep, and the noise you heard was my snoring.”
“But how did you know we heard a noise if you were asleep at the time?”
“I—eh—I don’t exactly know, your Majesty.”
“It’s quite clear you were listening. I’ll excuse you this time, but if I catch you eavesdropping again I’ll make the Owl take you up into the sky and drop you—that may be a drop too much for you. You can go now, but don’t do so any more.”
But the Prince had still hold of him.
“By the bye,” he said, “there’s a horse-pond near here; I think I’ll just take you there and throw you in, as I said I would if I caught you again.”
But the Princess said:
“Oh, let him go, Prince,” and the doctor hurried off at a great rate.
“I don’t think he’ll come back again in a hurry,” said the Prince; “meanwhile, what about the Knight of London?”
“I must get rid of him as soon as I can, and I want you to help me.”
“I, your Majesty—but how?”
“The Council have decided that last tournament was not fair, because the Knight came in fresh and you were already tired out, so they have decided to have it over again, and you are requested to come and fight—for me.”
“But what is the use of that? he’ll knock me over just as he did before.”
“Oh no! he won’t, because I’ve found out his secret.” And she told him about the paper.
At the end the Prince said:
“Oh! that’s all right then. I’ll be there, your Majesty.”
“But are you strong enough, do you think?”
“Oh yes, your Majesty.”
“And the affairs of State can be put off till the day after to-morrow. I promise to let you go as soon as you have got rid of the Knight for me.”
“Oh, for the matter of that, there is no such great hurry. I really needn’t go for some time.”
“But you can go whenever you like, you know.”
“Thank you, your Majesty.”
“But—a—I don’t want you to go, you know. In fact I should like you to stop, very much.”
“Then I’ll stop as long as you like, your Majesty—for ever, if you like, your Majesty.”
“I should like it very much, Prince,” she answered.
I don’t exactly know what happened after that—perhaps you can guess—but they do say that the Owl, who chanced to wake at that moment, positively blushed; but then people are fond of exaggerating, and the Owl did not seem to object, so I suppose it was all right; and when the Princess went back to the palace, the Prince was quite good-tempered again, whereas before her visit he had been so angry that all his servants had left in a body—however, they came back when they found he was quiet again.
So the Princess was quite happy once more, as you may imagine, only there was one nasty thing she had to do, and that was to send a note to the Knight of London thanking him for having taken priso
ner the King of the Magi, and hoping that he would be successful at the tournament on the next day—for you see she was not well enough to see him, and he was quite sure of winning, as he had done before, so he did not mind it very much.
The next day came, and the Princess was at the lists as before, and the crowd was just as great too, only there were very many less knights to fight, for the Knight of London was the challenger, and he—well, they had seen how he had treated the Prince of India, and they did not care to be tumbled over in such a very unceremonious way. However, two or three of the bravest in the world came and answered his challenge, but it was no use; they might just as well not have tried, for they were thrown from their horses so violently that they were most of them seriously hurt. So it seemed as if he was going to have it all his own way, for the Prince had as yet not put in an appearance, and the spectators began to call for him—for, as I said before, they liked the Prince better than the Knight; although he was so very handsome, still there was a something about him that they did not like at all. But the Knight had overcome all who had chosen to come against him, and his trumpets were sounding the challenge for the last time, and then their echoes died away and still no answering trumpet came, and the Princess was beginning to feel afraid that he had gone off to India and left her. But just as the Knight was advancing to claim his rights, a trumpet blast rang out brazen and shrill on the still air, and the Prince of India rode into the lists. He was still pale from his illness, but the people cheered him loudly, and the Princess gave a sigh of relief, and quite flushed with joy and excitement.
“He’ll win this time,” she said to Lord Licec, who was standing near her.
“I don’t know so much about that,” he answered, “for you see the Knight of London is in very good form to-day; and just look at the Prince’s shield—it’s made of cardboard, I should think—yes, it is. Ah—I am afraid his last defeat has rather turned his head.”
The Princess smiled and nodded. Lord Licec thought she was nodding to him, but she wasn’t; both the smile and the nod were meant for quite another person.
However, the combatants were already in their places, so she signed to the heralds to give the signal.
“Laissez aller,” they cried, and once again the Knight and Prince charged each other. This time they did not go so fast, and the spectators could see what took place. It was soon over. The spear of each of the combatants hit exactly the centre of the other’s shield. But the spear of the Knight broke as if it had been made of a bulrush. It was not so with the Prince—for his spear pierced through and through the seven-fold shield of the Knight, and the Knight himself was thrown right off his horse on to the ground. He, however, was on his feet in an instant, and rushed at the Prince, who leapt off his horse and confronted the Knight.
The Knight made a pass at the Prince with his rapier, but the Prince caught the thrust on his shield, and the sword came to the same end as the spear. The Knight had still his heavy battle-axe, and he lifted it on high to swing it down on to the head of his opponent. The Prince made no movement to defend himself, and the axe came full on his crest—through the crest it hit its way, and through the steel helmet, but when it got past the steel it hit on a paper helm below, and the axe shivered at the touch as if it had been class. Then the Prince caught the Knight by the wrist:
“Keep still,” he said, “or I run you to the heart with my paper dagger.”
“You can’t,” sneered the Knight.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m heartless; so you can’t hurt my heart.”
The Prince took no notice of what he said. He had turned to the Princess, who was clapping her hands for joy—which was rather an unprincess-like act; but she couldn’t help it.
“What shall I do with him?” he said.
“Let him go, I suppose.”
And the Knight was beginning to walk off as fast as he could. But a loud and commanding voice came from behind the Princess, and she looked behind her suddenly, and she almost fainted, for a marvellous change had come over the Owl, and it was still changing. She rubbed her eyes in astonishment, and all the people who could see him did so too, and then a great shout went up from all of “God save the King!” for it was no longer the Owl they saw—it was the old King.
“Stop!” he cried loudly to the Knight, who was slinking off—“you have not received your reward yet. Just wait a moment, and to prevent mistakes just take your ordinary form.”
And again every one present rubbed their eyes in astonishment—for the handsome calm face of the Knight was shrivelling up, and his raven hair had become an ugly grey, and the people recognized him too as an old acquaintance, for he was—who do you think now? Why, he was Merrymineral—it seemed as if that day gave two instances of old friends with new faces.
Although he didn’t at all seem to want to stay, he was obliged to stop at the King’s voice. So he stood in the middle of the lists looking very uncomfortable—for every one was looking at him. The King began:
“Now let us see how many crimes you have committed. You have broken your oath—isn’t that right?”
“Oh! quite correct, your Majesty.”
“And you have rebelled against my daughter?”
“Quite correct, your Majesty.”
“And you have intended to murder her?”
“Just so, your Majesty.”
“And you tried to marry her?”
“I should have been only too pleased, your Majesty.”
“And you don’t repent, do you?”
“Not at all, your Majesty.”
“And the right punishment for each of your crimes is death?”
“Just so, your Majesty.”
“But I don’t care to sentence you to death—it’s not hard enough. I sentence you to live underground for ten thousand years.”
“Ten thousand years, your Majesty!”
“You can go at once, and if I catch you above ground—I shouldn’t like to be you.”
“No, your Majesty. Good-day.”
And he kissed his hand to the Princess, and bowed gallantly to the Prince of India, and then the ground gave way under him—and he has never been heard of since. But the King turned to the Prince of India and said:
“You may go now, Prince.”
The Prince looked astonished.
“I do not quite understand, your Majesty,” he said.
The King looked at him and said:
“You seem to be uncommonly hard of understanding, cousin of India. I said, You can go.”
“But I don’t want to go, your Majesty,” the Prince answered, getting a little red.
“Oh, don’t you?” said the King; “from what I heard of a certain pleasant conversation in a certain summer-house you seemed to have important affairs of State that demanded instant attention.”
Here the doctor suddenly remarked:
“If you will excuse me, your Majesty, I beg to differ from you when you refer to that conversation as pleasant. I myself heard it, or rather overheard it, and all I can say is I thought it most unpleasant—most. That is, if your Majesty will excuse my remark.”
“But I won’t,” said the King suddenly. “I believe it was you that suggested I should be confined to a dark cellar for three weeks without food—eh!”
But the doctor suddenly remembered that he had an important case that demanded instant attention.
The King turned to the Princess and said:
“Well, I suppose you can settle it for yourselves, you two, because I’m going now. I shall come and see you every seven years. Good-bye.”
And he suddenly turned into the Brown Owl, and flitted noiselessly off, before they could say “Good-bye,” or anything else.
The Prince found that he could manage to postpone his affairs of State indefinitely, and in a few days the Prince and Princess were married and lived happily ever afterwards.
1891
Rocking-Horse Land
LAURENCE HOUSMAN
&nbs
p; Prince Fredolin woke up, both eyes at once, and sprang out of bed into the sunshine. He was five years old that morning, by all the clocks and calendars in the kingdom; and the day was going to be beautiful. Every golden minute was precious. He was dressed and out of his room before the attendants knew that he was awake.
In the ante-chamber stood piles on piles of glittering presents; when he walked among them they came up to the measure of his waist. His fairy godmother had sent him a toy with the most humorous effect. It was labelled, “Break me and I shall turn into something else.” So every time he broke it he got a new toy more beautiful than the last. It began by being a hoop, and from that it ran on, while the Prince broke it incessantly for the space of one hour, during which it became by turn—a top, a Noah’s ark, a skipping-rope, a man-of-war, a box of bricks, a picture puzzle, a pair of stilts, a drum, a trumpet, a kaleidoscope, a steam-engine, and nine hundred and fifty other things exactly. Then he began to grow discontented because it would never turn into the same thing again, and after having broken the man-of-war he wanted to get it back again; also he wanted to see if the steam-engine would go inside the Noah’s ark, but the toy would never be two things at the same time either. This was very unsatisfactory. He thought his fairy godmother ought to have sent him two toys, out of which he could make combinations.
At last he broke it once more, and it turned into a kite; and while he was flying the kite he broke the string, and the kite went sailing away up into the nasty clear sky, and was never heard of again.
Then Fredolin sat down and howled at his fairy godmother; what a dissembling lot fairy godmothers were, to be sure! They were always setting traps to make their godchildren unhappy. Nevertheless, when told to, he took up his pen and wrote her a nice little note, full of bad spelling and tarrididdles, to say what a happy birthday he was spending in breaking up the beautiful toy she had sent him.
Then he went to look at the rest of the presents, and found it quite refreshing to break a few that did not send him giddy by turning into something else.
Suddenly his eyes became fixed with delight; alone, right at the end of the room, stood a great black rocking-horse. The saddle and bridle were hung with tiny gold bells and balls of coral; and the horse’s tail and mane flowed till they almost touched the ground.
The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (Pantheon Fairy Tale & Folklore Library) Page 40
