The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (The Pantheon Fairy Tale and Folklore Library)

by Michael Patrick Hearn (Editor)

  “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

  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 g
odmother; 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 Prince scampered across the room, and threw his arms around the beautiful creature’s neck. All its bells jangled as the head swayed gracefully down; and the prince kissed it between the eyes. Great eyes they were, the colour of fire, so wonderfully bright, it seemed they must be really alive, only they did not move, but gazed continually with a set stare at the tapestry-hung wall, on which were figures of armed knights riding by to battle.

  So Prince Fredolin mounted to the back of his rocking-horse, and all day long he rode and shouted to the figures of the armed knights, challenging them to fight, or leading them against the enemy.

  At length, when it came to be bedtime, weary of so much glory, he was lifted down from the saddle and carried away to bed.

  In his sleep Fredolin still felt his black rocking-horse swinging to and fro under him, and heard the melodious chime of its bells, and, in the land of dreams, saw a great country open before him, full of the sound of the battle-cry and the hunting-horn calling him to strange perils and triumphs.

  In the middle of the night he grew softly awake, and his heart was full of love for his black rocking-horse. He crept gently out of bed: he would go and look at it where it was standing so grand and still in the next room, to make sure that it was all safe and not afraid of being by itself in the dark night. Parting the door-hangings he passed through into the wide hollow chamber beyond, all littered about with toys.

  The moon was shining in through the window, making a square cistern of light upon the floor. And then, all at once, he saw that the rocking-horse had moved from the place where he had left it! It had crossed the room, and was standing close to the window, with its head toward the night, as though watching the movement of the clouds and the trees swaying in the wind.

  The Prince could not understand how it had been moved so; he was a little bit afraid, and stealing timidly across, he took hold of the bridle to comfort himself with the jangle of its bells. As he came close, and looked up into the dark solemn face he saw that the eyes were full of tears, and reaching up felt one fall warm against his hand.

  “Why do you weep, my Beautiful?” said the Prince.

  The rocking-horse answered, “I weep because I am a prisoner, and not free; open the window, Master, and let me go!”

  “But if I let you go I shall lose you,” said the Prince. “Cannot you be happy here with me?”

  And the horse said, “Let me go, for my great brothers call me out of Rocking-Horse Land, and I hear my sweet mare whinnying to her foals: and they all cry, seeking me through the ups and hollows of my native fastnesses! Sweet Master, let me go this night, and I will return to you when it is day!”

  Then Prince Fredolin said, “How shall I know that you will return to me: and what name shall I call you by?”

  And the rocking-horse answered, “My name is Rollonde. Search among my mane till you find in it a white hair, draw it out and wind it upon one of your fingers; and so long as you have it wound about your finger, you are my master; and wherever I am I must go or return at your bidding.”

  So the Prince drew down the rocking-horse’s head, and searched in the mane, till he had found there the white hair; and he wound it upon his finger and tied it. After that he kissed Rollonde between the eyes, saying, “Go then, Rollonde, since I love you, and would see you happy; only return to me when it is day!” And so saying he threw open the window to the stir of the night.

  Then the rocking-horse lifted his dark head and neighed aloud for joy, and swaying forward with a mighty circling motion rose full into the air, and sprang out into the free world before him.

  Fredolin watched how with plunge and curve he went over the bowed trees; and again he neighed into the darkness of the night, then swifter than wind disappeared in the distance: and faintly from far away came a sound of the neighing of many horses answering him.

  Then the Prince closed the window and crept back to bed; and all night long he dreamed strange dreams of Rocking-Horse Land. There he saw smooth hills and valleys that rose and sank without a stone or a tree to disturb the steel-like polish of their surface; slippery as glass, and driven over by a strong wind: and over them, with a sound like the humming of bees, flew the rocking-horses. Up and down, up and down, with bright manes streaming like coloured fires, and feet motionless behind and before, went the swift pendulum of their flight. Their long bodies bowed and rose; their heads worked to carry impetus to their going; they cried, neighing to each other over hill and valley, “Which of us shall be first? which of us shall be first?” After them the mares with their tall foals came spinning to watch, crying also among themselves, “Ah! which shall be first?”

  “Rollonde, Rollonde is first!” shouted the Prince, clapping his hands together as they reached the goal; and at that, all at once, he woke and saw it was broad day. Then he ran and threw open the window, and holding out the finger that carried the white hair, cried, “Rollonde, Rollonde, come back, Rollonde!”

  Far away he heard an answering sound; and in another moment there came the great rocking-horse himself, dipping and dancing over the hills. He crossed the woods and cleared the palace-wall at a single bound, and floating in through the window, dropped down on to the floor by Prince Fredolin’s side, rocking himself gently to and fro as though panting from the strain of his long flight.

  “Now are you happy?” asked the Prince as he caressed him.

  “Ah! sweet Prince,” said Rollonde, “ah, kind Master!” And then he said no more, but became the stock still staring rocking-horse of the day before, with fixed eyes and rigid limbs, which could do nothing but rock up and down with a jangling of sweet bells so long as the Prince rode him.

  That night Fredolin came again when all had become still in the palace; and now as before Rollonde had moved from his place and was standing with his head against the window waiting to be let out. “Ah, dear Master,” he said, so soon as he saw the Prince coming, “let me go this night also, and I will surely return before day.”

  So again the Prince opened the window, and watched him disappear, and heard from far away the neighing of the horses in Rocking-Horse Land calling to him. And in the morning with the white hair round his finger he called “Rollonde, Rollonde!” and Rollonde neighed and came back to him, dipping and dancing over the hills.

  Now this same thing happened every night; and every morning the horse kissed Fredolin, saying, “Ah! dear Prince and kind Master,” and became stock still once more.

  So a year went by, till one morning Fredolin woke up to find it was his sixth birthday. And as six is to five, so were the presents he received on his sixth birthday for magnificence and multitude to the presents he had received the year before. His fairy godmother had sent him a bird, a real live bird; but when he pulled its tail it became a lizard, and when he pulled the lizard’s tail it became a mouse, and when he pulled the mouse’s tail it became a cat; then he did very much want to see if the cat would eat the mouse, and not being able to have them both together he got rather vexed with his fairy godmother. However, he pulled the cat’s tail and the cat became a dog, and the dog became a goat; and so it went on till he got to a cow; and he pulled the cow’s tail and it became a camel, and he pulled the camel’s tail and it became an elephant, and still not being contented, he pulled the elepha
nt’s tail and it became a guinea-pig. Now a guinea-pig has got no tail to pull, so it remained a guinea-pig, while Prince Fredolin sat down and howled at this fairy godmother.

  But the best of all his presents was the one given to him by the King his father. It was a most beautiful horse, for, said the King, “You are now old enough to learn to ride.”

  So Fredolin was put upon his horse’s back, and from having ridden so long upon his rocking-horse he learned to ride perfectly in a single day, and was declared by all the courtiers to be the most perfect equestrian that was ever seen.

  But these praises and the pleasure of riding about on a real horse so occupied his thoughts that that night he forgot altogether to go and set Rollonde free, but fell fast asleep and dreamed of nothing but real horses and horsemen going to battle; and so it was the next night too.

  But the night after that, just as he was falling asleep, he heard something sobbing by his bed, and a voice saying “Ah! dear Prince and kind Master, let me go, for my heart breaks for a sight of my native land.” And there stood his poor rocking-horse Rollonde, with tears falling out of his beautiful eyes on to the white coverlet.

  Then the Prince, full of shame at having forgotten his old friend, sprang up and threw his arms round his neck saying, “Be of good cheer, Rollonde, for now surely I will let thee go!” and he ran to the window and opened it for the horse to go through. “Ah, dear Prince and kind Master!” said Rollonde. Then he lifted his head and neighed so that the whole palace shook, and swaying forward till his head almost touched the ground he sprang out and away into the night over the hills towards Rocking-Horse Land.