The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (Pantheon Fairy Tale & Folklore Library) (53 page)

“What are we to do now?”

“Go back, I suppose,” he answered.

“But I don’t know the way,” she said, “and we are near the country of the Magi, and they’re the most frightful creatures, who would tear us up and eat us if they knew where to find us.”

The Knight smiled:

“I could save you from them,” he said.

But the Princess said reflectively:

“I don’t know so much about that, for you see they’re very strong—and how dark it’s getting; it must be past five, and it will soon be night.”

I dare say if she had been alone she would have had a good cry, but that wouldn’t do before strangers.

It was still getting darker and she began to feel very uncomfortable, for the howl of a wolf came down on the breeze, and a squirrel that had been searching for nuts darted home to its hole, scuttling along as fast as it could.

So she said:

“Come, let us be quick and get away.”

“Promise to marry me first.”

But she only said:

“Oh, I’ll see about that when we’re safe—so do come.”

What the Knight would have answered was never known, for just then the Owl, who was seated on her shoulder, gave a mournful “Tu-whoo,” at which the horse of the Knight jumped back nearly ten feet and almost threw him with the unexpected shock. But before she could do anything a hunter burst from the bushes near at hand and said:

“Hurry, Princess, hurry; the Magi have heard of your whereabouts, and they are coming at full speed here. Come, be quick.”

But the Princess said:

“But what will you do, old man? for you have no horse.”

But he smiled contemptuously.

“Horse! I don’t want a horse—why, I can run as well as any deer. Come, come.”

And he caught the bridle of her horse and away they went, and for the moment she forgot all about the Knight, for from behind came the sound of crashing branches, and she knew that the Magi were following them. But the old hunter ran in front of the horse, tugging at the bridle-rein, and shouting to her to go faster, so she leant forward and whispered in her horse’s ear, and it stretched forward with such speed that it outsped the wind. Gradually the sounds behind began to get less and less, and the wood began to get lighter, and at last they jumped a little brook, and were at the end of the forest in a smooth meadow. Here the old man stopped.

“You are safe now,” he said. And she drew a sigh of relief.

“At last!” she said; “but how can I reward you, my preserver? Would you like a lock of my hair, or a purse full of gold, or a—? well, that wouldn’t do—you see I can’t well offer to marry you, though that’s what princesses generally do to their preservers. You’d better choose something for yourself. I will grant it, whatever it is.”

But the old man shook his head.

“I want no reward, your Majesty; I only did my duty. I couldn’t have done less. See, here come some of the hunters whom you left behind.”

And just then several of them came up, and when they saw her they shouted and blew their horns to let the others know that the Princess was found. But the huntsman said:

“Good-day, your Majesty. I must go.”

“But you haven’t got your reward yet.”

But he shook his head.

“I want no reward,” he said; and before the Princess could say any more he stepped into the forest and was seen no more; so she turned her horse towards the town.

On her way she met the head huntsman, so she drew rein and said:

“Why did you not follow on the scent of the deer?”

“It lay so thinly, your Majesty, that the dogs could not follow, and they soon gave in.”

“But you should have followed me, at any rate.”

“Ah, your Majesty, we might as well have tried to prove the moon was made of green cheese. Besides, your Majesty had one cavalier; and sometimes two’s company and three’s none.”

Just at this moment the Princess remembered the Knight.

“Good gracious!” she said, “what has become of the Knight—have none of you seen him?”

But none of them had, and although the question went far and wide no news came of him, nor could he be seen anywhere.

“He must have been caught by the Magi—if so, he will have been devoured to a certainty! Poor Knight!”

The chief huntsman seemed excited:

“Your Majesty has not been near the country of the Magi, surely?” he said.

“I was almost too near, and the poor Knight has probably been torn to pieces in trying to drive them back.”

“Your Majesty should be thankful that knights are so faithful,” said the chief huntsman; “but perhaps, after all, he has escaped by a different path.”

But the Princess sighed:

“I am afraid not,” she said.

However, she rode on to the town to consult Lord Licec as to what had better be done. But when she got there she found that he was out of town and would not be back till next morning. So the poor Princess had to go back home and wait—but she looked so pale that her ladies-in-waiting insisted on sending for the doctor. He came in a hurry, and asked her of course what was the matter, and when she told him he shook his head.

“I’m afraid he’s got rather a poor chance, for these Magi haven’t had a good meal of one of your Majesty’s subjects for nearly three weeks, and they were uncommonly hungry. But if your Majesty will allow me to feel your pulse, I—”

So she gave him her hand, and he took out his watch and began to count. “One, two, three, four”; but just then he looked up and saw the Owl sitting on the Princess’s shoulder, and his hand trembled so much that he dropped his watch, and it smashed to atoms on the floor.

“Oh, dear, there goes ten and sixpence,” he groaned; “and I shan’t be able to get another for ever so long. D’you know, your Majesty, I think you are somewhat feverish; and you had better go to bed. And meanwhile, the Owl is too exciting for you; if you could let it be put in a cellar and let it have nothing to eat for, say, three weeks, perhaps it might not be so fiery after that.”

The Princess smiled:

“Perhaps you would like to take him there yourself,” she said.

But the doctor said:

“Good gracious! no. I think he’s perfectly capable of taking himself without any assistance. D’you know, your Majesty, I’ve got a very pressing case outside; and if you will excuse me I will retire.”

And he retired so quickly that he left his umbrella behind him—for you see he was very frightened of the Owl.

Acting on his advice the Princess went to bed, and dismissed her ladies-in-waiting and told them not to come to the room again until she called for them.

And then she lay with her hand under her head thinking of nothing in particular, and the Owl sat on the top of the canopy over her bed.

Suddenly she heaved a deep sigh.

“1 wish I knew what had become of him,” she thought to herself.

“You wouldn’t like it if you did know,” said a strange cracked voice that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. She started up and looked all round the room, but there was no one to be seen; so she thought it was all imagination, and lay down again. And again she thought to herself, “How I should like to be with him.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” said the voice.

This time she was sure it came from the Owl, so she asked quite softly, “Did you say that, cherished Owl?”

And the Owl answered:

“I did.”

“But I thought you could not speak, dear Owl.”

“Well, you see, I can sometimes—when it’s necessary.”

“But how did you know what I was thinking?—for I did not speak aloud.”

“Ah! you see, Princess, I can’t tell you that—it’s quite enough for you that I can tell.”

“But why do you say I should not like to see him?”

“Because you wouldn’t.”

“Why? Is he all torn to pieces by the Magi?”

“Torn to pieces!—not he,” laughed the Owl.

“Oh! that is good news,” said she quite joyfully. “Oh! do take me to him, dear Owl.”

“Very well, Princess. But I warn you, you won’t be pleased with what you see.” But the Princess was quite confident.

“Oh yes, I shall, dear Owl—when shall we go?”

“At once, if you like—the sooner the better.”

“Oh! you dear Owl. I’ll go and get dressed at once.”

So she ran into her dressing-room and dressed herself in no time, without bothering to call up any of her ladies-in-waiting about it. Then she went back to the room where the Owl was waiting for her.

He was sitting on the floor near the fire, blinking quietly at the coals, and he did not at first notice her entry, so she said:

“Well, good Owl, shall I send for the horse?”

“What for?” asked the Owl.

“To ride on, I suppose!” she answered.

“Oh, that’s it, is it? That would never do. Just get on my back, and I’ll see if I can’t carry you somewhat faster than a horse could.”

So she got on his back, although she was rather afraid she would crush him altogether. But somehow, when she sat down, she sank deep into his warm feathers—either she had grown small, or the Owl had grown very big all of a sudden. Without the least shock they passed through the wall, and out into the clear starlight.

“Good Owl,” said the Princess, “you won’t let me fall, will you?” for, to tell the truth, she felt rather afraid on the whole; but the Owl answered:

“No, of course not; you’re quite safe, only you’d better keep close to me, for we shall go pretty fast, and the wind will be sharp enough to cut your hair off.”

So she sat still, protected against the wind, and looking at the twinkling stars—for the Owl flew so high that he almost rubbed some of them out of their places.

The wind whistled loud in the wings of the Owl, but his flight was so regular that she almost fell asleep, and was quite happy—for you see she felt quite safe. Presently the straight flight of the Owl changed, and he began to circle round and round, and then they dropped quickly towards the earth, and the Owl stopped.

“You can get off now,” he said, and she stepped off his back.

“Take care,” he said next; and she rubbed her eyes in astonishment, for she found herself on the top of a roof.

“I told you you wouldn’t like it if you came,” he said. “But you’d better look down below if you want to see anything that’s going on,” and he gravely seated himself on her shoulder, for he seemed quite small again. So the Princess looked down, and she saw at some distance below a large fire that was blazing in a sort of courtyard, and then she saw that it was the battlements of a castle on which they were standing. Presently a horrible-looking old witch came within the glow of the fire—she was an awful old creature too, and she almost made the Princess cry out from fright. She seated herself near the fire, and began to beat the ground angrily with the handle of a broom that she carried, and every now and then muttered as she did so:

“How awfully late he is. Why don’t he come?” and various other complaints of his lateness.

“But who is he?” asked the Princess of the Owl in a whisper.

“Wait, and you’ll see,” said the Owl.

Just then something peculiar happened down below—a couple of men
appeared suddenly. They did not seem to come from anywhere in particular, but they were there all the same. The Princess almost screamed with astonishment, but she checked herself in time by stuffing a pocket-handkerchief into her mouth, for one of the men whom she saw was the Knight of London, and the other was Magog the King of the Magi; and the Knight of London did not seem to be on bad terms with the King of the Magi.

“You’ve come at last,” growled the old woman, in a voice something between the squeaking of a slate-pencil on a slate and the growling of a bear with a sore head.

“I couldn’t come any sooner, mother,” said the Knight of London soothingly; “you see I had to wait for her to promise to marry me.”

“Well, has she promised?” said the witch.

“Not yet.”

“Then why on earth not?”

“She said she had to wait for the consent of the Council.”

“Why didn’t you eat her?” said Magog sleepily; and then, without waiting for an answer, he curled himself up close to the fire and went to sleep.

But the old witch went on:

“Well, and what are your plans now?”

“I’m going back to-morrow morning, and I’m going to take old Magog and pretend that he’s my prisoner of war, and then the stupid old Council will say I’ve done a service to the State, and they will give me the hand of the Princess for my pains.”

“But supposing they don’t?”

“Then I shall cut them all to pieces, and kill the Princess, and make myself king by force—for you see nothing can cut through my armour, except one thing.”

“And what’s that?” asked the witch.

“Well, I don’t mind telling you, mother, because you won’t go and tell any one—it’s
paper
!”

“That’s a funny sort of thing to cut through armour.”

“It may be funny,” answered the Knight, “but it’s true all the same, and if the Prince of India had found it out I should not be where I am now; only he didn’t, you see.”

“So much the worse for him,” said the witch, “but is there nothing at all but paper that can cut through it?”

“Well, there is one thing that can—the beak of the Owl, to wit.”

“Tu-whoo!” suddenly cried the Owl.

The effect of this sudden cry was tremendous. The Knight clung to his mother, and cried out in a piteous voice:

“Oh mother! mother! it’s the Owl; save me!”

“How on earth can I save you if you hang on me like this?” said his mother. “Just throw some more wood on, so that we can see this Owl, and I’ll fling my broom at it, and see if that won’t bring it down.”

But the Princess leant her head to the Owl, and said:

“Dear Owl, let’s go. I’ve seen quite enough.”

And the Owl seemed to think the same, for he said:

“All right. Just get on my back again, and we’ll go.”

So she did as she was told, and no sooner had she got on his back than she fell asleep, and remembered no more until she found herself lying on her bed with the early morning sun shining through the lattice.

She rubbed her eyes in astonishment, and it seemed as if it had been all a dream. But it all was so clear on her mind, and besides she had on her riding-clothes just as she had put them on to go with the Owl.