The Fairies and the Christmas Child Part 8

'His Majesty desires the impossible!' they whispered amongst themselves, and so it seemed until the Emperor's Uncle Elias, the wild-bearded King of the Russians, told him of a highborn maid who was as good as she was beautiful, and had never yet been wooed by man.

'She s.h.i.+nes o'er other women as bright roses do!' he cried, and Otnit vowed to win her.

On the eve of his departure for Syria, where she dwelt with her father the Soldan, Otnit's mother gave him the ring you held, bidding him take his horse and ride toward Rome while gazing at the gem in the ring, that what he saw there might direct his path. The Emperor smiled, but wis.h.i.+ng to humour her, did as she requested, and rode through the silver starlight thinking of his fair maid. At early dawn, when the welkin rang with the song of birds, he saw mirrored in the ring a narrow pathway trodden in the green gra.s.s. Making his way by this fragrant road, he reached a linden tree by a lake. Here he stayed his courser, and sprang to the ground, peering beneath its boughs.

'Never yet from tree came so sweet-breathing a wind,' he laughed; for lo! an infant lay on the gra.s.s, his fair white frock fringed with many gems. Otnit found it all he could do to lift him, in spite of his strength, but placing the little creature on the saddle, declared his intention of taking him to the palace, and putting him in his mother's care.

But this did not please Dwarf Elberich, who for his own purpose had taken the form of an innocent babe. He offered Otnit such splendid ransom of sword and s.h.i.+eld to set him free, that the Emperor laid him down again, and even allowed him to hold the magic ring, by the wearing of which it had been possible for him to see what is usually hidden from mortal sight.

Now it was Elberich's turn, and being once more invisible, he teased the Emperor to his heart's content, dwelling on the anger of the Queen-Mother should she find that her gift was lost. Not until the Emperor was out of patience, and on the point of riding away did Elberich restore the ring to him.

'And now, O Otnit,' he said, 'since I see you love well your mother, whom I loved long ere you saw the light, I will help you to gain your bride.'

And Otnit was glad, for he knew that the word of a Dwarf is ever as good as his bond.

In the spring of the year, 'when all the birds were singing,' the Emperor called his friends together and bade them embark their troops with his in the s.h.i.+ps at anchor in the harbour. The waters of the bay gleamed as a field of gold as the stately vessels glided over them, and for long the carols of the birds on sh.o.r.e went with them on the breeze.

Otnit's hopes were high as he paced the deck, though he grieved that the Dwarf had not come to join him.

At length the fleet reached the Eastern coast of the Mediterranean, and there King Otnit beheld a haven full of s.h.i.+ps, far more in number than his own. 'I would that Elberich were here, for he is skilled in warfare,' he murmured uneasily, for his men looked askance at the fleet before them. The words had barely left his lips when the sound of a laugh came from aloft, and straightway the Dwarf displayed himself. He had been in hiding amongst the rigging, and was now at hand to use his Fairy powers in Otnit's service.

Elberich's gift of a small round stone, which he bade him thrust into his cheek, conferred upon Otnit the gift of language, and enabled him to impersonate a rich merchant with so much success that his s.h.i.+p was allowed to drop anchor in the harbour. When dusk had fallen, and all was quiet, the Emperor disembarked, encamping with his troops among the rock-hewn burial places of the ancient Phoenicians, which abounded on that coast. Here he abode for three whole days, while Elberich sought the King of Syria, demanding his daughter's hand in marriage for his royal master. It was refused point blank, and, more than this, the Soldan ordered his unwelcome visitor to be put to death. But the flas.h.i.+ng blades of the guards cut the empty air, and Elberich jeered at them finely.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Elberich had jeered him finely.]

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'Your daughter shall go to my lord of her own free will,' he cried to the Soldan, 'and only so shall your skull be saved!' He then returned to the Emperor, who bade his troops attack the city of Sidon.

A desperate battle with the heathen followed; for awhile the enemy's numbers triumphed, but not for long. The Emperor's charge swept all before him, and the Soldan's soldiers fell like corn before the scythe.

Then the Dwarf led the army to the Syrian capital; and red as had been the field of Sidon, it was as nothing to that of Muntabur, where men's blood flowed as a crimson river.

While yet the battle was at its height, Elberich made his way, unseen, to an inner chamber of the Royal Palace, and though he had come to rate the Princess for her father's obstinacy, words forsook him in her presence. So fair a maid he had never seen; her mouth 'flamed like the rose,' her flowing hair was the colour of rich red gold, and her lovely eyes had the radiance of the moon. Elberich drew her to the window, and by the aid of his power over s.p.a.ce, showed her King Otnit in the thick of the fight. The sun fell full on his upturned face, as, seated on his white charger, he rallied his men for the final onslaught; he looked as brave a knight as the Princess had ever seen, and she lowered her glance as Elberich told her how she could save her father.

'Death alone can wean King Otnit's desire to wed you,' he said. 'His love for you pa.s.ses the love of man, and is withal as tender as that of a woman for her child.'

Much more Elberich spake to her to the same purpose, and at close of day she allowed him to lead her where he would. Together they pa.s.sed through a secret pa.s.sage beneath the Palace, and so through the royal gardens, to a path which wound down to the field of battle.

Fighting had ceased for awhile, for the heathen had been sore smitten; and since his men had neither eaten nor slept for many long hours, the Emperor must needs let them rest until dawn. Full of impatience at the delay which kept him from storming the walls that held the lady of his love, he paced his tent, and turned to find her standing before him.

Her mouth flamed red as the reddest rose; her eyes had the l.u.s.tre of the harvest moon, and her red-gold hair framed a snowy brow that was white as the breast of a swan. Bending his knee, he touched with his lips the hem of her gown, and when the Princess gave him her exquisite hand, he could scarce breathe for rapture.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'She is yours, O Otnit!' cried the Dwarf"]

'She is yours, O Otnit!' cried the Dwarf; and the Emperor lifted her on to his charger, speaking to her with such tender and kindly words that her fears were stilled. With Elberich perched on the horse's mane, they straightway rode to the coast, where the sails of the Emperor's vessel swelled roundly in the wind. On the summer seas of the blue Mediterranean, they two were wed; and never had mortal man a sweeter wife, or maid a more gallant husband."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Chapter VIII

The Silver Horn.

When the Dwarf had come to the end of his story, he very politely bade me goodbye, and bowed me out of his Castle. A week or two later we went to Saltzburg, and there I had a real adventure.

The Professor with whom we were staying hadn't a single grandchild, and as all his books were old and dusty, to say nothing of being written in German, I should have found it rather dull if he had not lent me his nephew's pony. I had learnt to ride as a little chap, when we lived in the country. It was lovely there, but no one was ever ill, and Father had so few patients that we could not stay.

The pony's name was Heinrich. He knew his way everywhere, the Professor said, so Father didn't mind my riding him alone, and I had a ripping time.

One day we went to the Wunderberg, a big hill on a wide bleak moor, which was supposed to be quite hollow, and the favourite haunt of Wild Women.

The ground was extremely b.u.mpy, and several times I was almost thrown out of the saddle. At last I got off, for I thought I would rather walk.

It was a splendid morning, and I was glad that I wasn't the Professor's nephew, away at school, as I lay on my back and looked up at the sky.

A small black beetle crawled over my hand, but I was so comfortable that I scarcely stirred. It crossed my cuff and climbed a blade of gra.s.s; and as I watched it a shadow fell between me and the sunlight.

A slender woman in a white gown was standing close to me. Her face was thin, and very wistful, and over her shoulders, down to her very feet, fell a mantle of glistening yellow hair.

"Are you hungry, child?" she asked gently, holding out to me a slice of fine white bread.

"Not yet," I answered, for we had had _Sauerkraut_ for breakfast, and I felt that I should not want anything more to eat for a long time. She looked disappointed, and sighed as she threw the bread away. A bird flew down and pecked it, but after a taste or two he left it where it was.

"Then surely you are thirsty, and will drink from my horn?" she pleaded, showing me a silver vessel with curious scrolls and writings traced in gold, which had been hidden by her beautiful hair. I took a sip from its bevelled edge, and had scarcely swallowed the first drop when I felt myself sinking through the hill, the Wild Woman still beside me.

"At last! At last!" she cried, clapping her shadowy hands as we stood in a wide hall lit with amber light. "O sisters, rejoice with me! I have found a child, and his eyes, his eyes are crystal clear."

She bent over me as she spoke, half smothering me with her silken tresses, and I was so afraid that those sisters of hers would hug me too, that I scrambled away and I took to my heels and _ran_.

But you couldn't get far in that place. It was a miniature town, with silver streets and golden houses, and gorgeous palaces in between.

Every turn I took led to a wide square filled with rose trees, where fountains of gold and silver water bubbled and sparkled in the mysterious pale green light. A flock of brilliant humming birds whirred their wings in my face so that I could not see where I was going, and the Wild Women formed a circle round me and began to sing:

"Only once did mortal child, By our silver horn beguiled, Find a way to leave us; Though they call us strange and wild, Thou shalt find us soft and mild.

Stay, and do not grieve us."

Their voices were very sweet, but when they had sung that verse twice over, I did not want to hear it again.

"I don't mind staying with you for an hour or two," I said, as they stopped singing, "but I shouldn't care to live here. I am a Christmas Child, and there are other Fairy Folk I want to see."

Then they looked at each other, and drew away.

"Since he is a Christmas Child," said one, "we cannot keep him. You should have known better, Sister Snow-blossom, than to bring him here!"

"How could I tell," wailed Snow-blossom. "He seemed like any other boy, and would just have fitted the green silk suit that I wove so long ago."