The Victorian Fairy Tale Book (Pantheon Fairy Tale & Folklore Library) (51 page)

It was so sudden that it quite startled the Princess, but the giant shook his head mournfully:

“He always roars like that when he’s in a temper. He’ll be coming out in a moment, and won’t there be a row?”

Just then the voice came again:

“Bring Popfelwuski to the door.”

“Popfelwuski’s his dragon that he rides on,” said the giant.

And then some servants led the dragon to the door of one of the tents.

It was a most marvellous-looking creature, for it had eyes as large as tea-trays, and they twinkled awfully; and it was golden-coloured all over, and it shone so brightly in the sun that it made the Princess’s eyes quite ache to look at it. And
it
was growling and prancing and kicking up the dust, and making more fuss than fifty horses could have done. Just then the tent opened and Merrymineral came out. He looked just as usual, and had not any armour or weapons except a huge battle-axe, which must have weighed nearly a ton, but he carried it with the greatest ease, although he was an old man—for he was over eight hundred years old. He vaulted on to his dragon’s back with very great ease, and putting his spurs to its golden sides made it gallop at a great rate. As yet he had not seen what had happened to his army, for he was rather short-sighted, but when he had got within a few yards of where it ought to have been, he suddenly stopped as if he were bewildered, but then his eye fell on the Princess and he roared out:

“Oh, it’s you, is it? I’ll soon do for you,” and he made his dragon fly towards the Princess at a very great rate. But precisely the same thing happened now as had happened once before, for the dragon came to a sudden stop as if it had hit against a wall. The Prince of India did not understand it at all.

“Had we not better retreat and join the rest of the army?” he said.

But the Princess answered:

“Oh no, we’re quite safe here. He won’t be able to get at us. Only you’d better come a little closer to me, because he might be able to hit you.”

So the Prince came a good deal closer, and they sat watching the frantic efforts of Merrymineral to get at them, but it was no use. Suddenly, however, he changed his mode of attack. He made his dragon fly high into the air—so high indeed that it would have been invisible if its golden coat had not shone brightly in the sun. It was quite unpleasant to look at him, for he was so high up that it made them feel dizzy as it shone out against the sky, miles high. Suddenly, however, just as it was directly over them, it seemed to be growing larger.

“I do believe he’s going to drop on us from above”; and so he was. The Prince put up his lance that the dragon might be spiked on it as it fell. But he might have saved himself the trouble, for suddenly, when the thing had fallen to within a few feet of their heads, it stopped as if it had fallen on to the roof of a house, and then it bounced off again like a ball.

But the Princess had shut her eyes, so she did not see this; but when she opened them she saw the dragon and Merrymineral lying on the grass in a heap where they had fallen.

But he was soon on his feet again, and again he tried to charge at the Princess; but it was no use, and he only tired himself. At last the Princess began to get tired too, so she turned to the Prince and said:

“I think we’ve had enough of this—don’t you?”

And he replied:

“Oh, plenty; but I don’t see how we’re to get rid of him, unless I go out and fight him.”

But the Princess answered:

“Oh, I don’t think you need do that, although it’s very good of you to offer—but you’ve forgotten all about the Owl.” So she took the Owl off her shoulder, and putting it on the horse’s head with its face to her she asked it:

“You can drive him away, can’t you, dear Owl?”

And the Owl nodded gravely. So the Princess said:

“Then I wish you would—only don’t hurt him; only drive him away.”

As she said this a wonderful change came over the Owl. It began to grow bigger and bigger, until it quite covered them over as it spread its wings to fly. Merrymineral seemed to know what was coming, for he drew his steed’s reins up tight and examined his stirrups and saddle. And then, as the Owl flew towards him, he tried to spur the golden dragon against him; but the dragon refused to move, and at last it turned and bolted with its tail between its legs, like a whipped dog.

Merrymineral tried hard to stop it, but he might as well have tried to stop a mad bull. As he could not stop, and the Owl was catching him up, he turned in his saddle and hurled his heavy battle-axe at the Owl; but the Owl caught it as it flew, and flung it back with such good aim and force that it hit the dragon on the back and cut it clean in half, so that it fell from under Merrymineral and left him standing on the ground.

But when he saw that the Owl was quite close to him, a wonder happened—for he suddenly caught fire at his feet and shot up into the air just as you may have seen a rocket do, and he shot right away, so that the last they saw of him was just as he disappeared over the mountains. But the Owl flew back to its mistress quite small again, and it perched once more on her shoulder as affectionately as ever. As to the golden dragon, it had disappeared altogether—and the funny part was that nothing was heard of it ever after, and no one knew how it had gone—so that the only thing that remained was the battle-axe, and that took seven men to lift it. However, the main thing was that Merrymineral had departed, and there seemed no likelihood of his returning.

So you may imagine how great the Princess’s joy was.

As soon as he had quite disappeared, she said:

“That really does seem to be the last of him.”

But the Prince shook his head:

“You never know when that sort of man will turn up again; and in the meantime what are we to do with the giant and the dwarf? I suppose we had better attack them at once and get rid of them.”

“But why?” asked the Princess. “They don’t seem to want to fight much, and why should we attack them? Let us go and ask them to go away quietly, and I should think they will.”

So they went up to where the giant and the dwarf and their forces were standing.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked of them.

“I don’t know,” answered the dwarf, and the giant too shook his head. So the Princess said:

“Will you come and join our rejoicings?”

But the dwarf said:

“No; I must be going back to my kingdom, or I don’t know what won’t happen.”

And the giant said:

“And I’ll go too, or they might rebel there just as your subjects have done.”

So he said good-day, and in three minutes he had disappeared. The dwarf too said good-day quite politely for him, and then he struck the ground with the point of his lance, and immediately the earth opened before him and he marched into the opening at the head of his troops, and with their trumpets blowing and banners waving they disappeared, and the Princess never saw them nor their master again—and to tell the truth she was not very sorry. But the Prince and Princess marched back to the town at the head of the army, and there Lord Licec met them and congratulated the Princess on her success, and the people shouted for joy, and the bells pealed gladly.

So they marched through the town to the principal city, from which you may remember she had set out on the day before. And there they were received with even greater joy, and for six days there was feasting and rejoicing throughout the whole land, but on the seventh day, after the Princess had rewarded the knights who had fought the best, the army dispersed, and the town quieted down, and everything went on just as usual.

Only the Prince of India remained of all the knights who had fought. He said he was not well, and wanted a rest before he set out for India, which was a long way off. So he stopped and rested, and the winter changed to
summer, and the summer to autumn, and he was still there, and he did not seem as if he were likely to go either. The time slipped away quietly enough, and no more was heard of Merrymineral—not even a word. One day when the Lords of the Council had finished sitting for the day, and were departing, Lord Licec remained, as he always did when he had anything private to say to the Princess. So she said:

“Well, my lord, what is it that you wish to tell to me to-day?”

“I had come, your Majesty, to make a suggestion to you that it would be greatly to the good of the nation if your Majesty would condescend to think about marrying some one.”

The Princess was so startled that she quite jumped:

“Marry any one! good gracious me, whom am I to marry? I don’t know any one that I like at all.”

Lord Licec stroken his chin:

“That is rather a drawback,” he said; “but I had thought that perhaps the Prince of India might—”

But the Princess interrupted him:

“Oh, he would never do; besides he would have to ask me, and he won’t do that.”

But it might have been noticed that she blushed just a little as she said it, so that perhaps she was not quite sincere in what she said. Lord Licec did not notice that, so he said:

“Well, if he won’t suit, the only thing to do is to have a tournament, and then you must marry the winner.”

But she did not seem to like the idea at all. “Suppose the winner should turn out a hunchback, or a cripple, or a very hideous man,” she said.

“Your Majesty might arrange it so that the candidates should only be allowed to tilt if they were sufficiently handsome.”

She agreed to the suggestion.

“I suppose it is the only thing to do,” she said; and it was arranged that in four weeks’ time a grand tournament was to take place for the hand of the Princess Ismara, and that all the handsome knights in the world could come if they liked.

As to the Owl, when he was asked if he liked the arrangement, he gravely nodded his head; so the Princess felt quite safe in her choice, and the Prince of India felt contented also, for he knew he had a very good chance of winning, unless some knight of whom he had never heard should suddenly turn up. He spent the time in between in practising for the tournament, and he ordered a new set of armour to be sent to him from India in time.

So every one seemed pleased with the arrangement, except, perhaps, the ugly knights, but they kept quiet about it.

The month went away quietly, except that the town was gradually filling with knights, who were coming to take part in the contest. The lists were erected on a plain just outside the town-walls, and on the day before the tournament the free seats were already filled with people, who had come there determined to get places even if they had to wait all day long and had to sleep there all night. As you may imagine, the Princess did not get much sleep that night, for she was naturally in a great fever of excitement thinking about who the knight would be. One thing she was sure about, and that was, that if she did not like him she would not have anything to do with him, even if she had to forfeit her kingdom. However that might be, she did not sleep that night, and on the morrow she felt quite tired. She dressed herself in her most splendid robes, and drove to the lists in a little basket-work pony carriage drawn by eight little mouse-coloured ponies. It was a beautiful day, and the road to the lists was covered with people who were going to look on, or to take part in the tournament, and as she went by they drew up their horses to bow to her, for she had specially forbidden them to cheer—she said it made her head ache. So she drove down the hard, white road bowing and smiling to the people, and they smiled and looked glad too, for they were very fond of their Princess.

After she had gone along thus for about five minutes she overtook the Prince of India, who was going the same way on his famous horse. The Prince did not seem to see her—in fact he was engaged in looking very hard at his spur on the other side.

But the Princess did not mean to pass him like that, so she said cheerfully:

“Good morning, Prince,”

He looked up quite astonished:

“Good morning, your Majesty!” he said, and he took off his cap and bowed low in his saddle, for you see he had not got his armour on—he had sent it on with his page.

The Princess did not know exactly what to say next, so for a moment they were silent, and the Prince trotted quietly by her side. At last she said:

“Are you, too, going to look on at the tournament?”

The Prince answered:

“I had purposed taking part in it—that, ahem!—is if your Majesty thinks I am sufficiently handsome, and if you have no other objection.”

The Princess answered quickly:

“Oh, no objection at all. I should like it very much—that is, if you are content to run the risk of your life for such a small prize.”

But the Prince only answered:

“Oh, your Majesty!” and her Majesty flushed a little at his reply.

So they went on again in silence, and the road began to get fuller and
fuller of people, and the Princess had her time so taken up by managing her ponies—for she was driving herself, you know—that she could not say much.

However, just as they reached the entry, she said:

“By the bye, what seat have you got?”

“I believe they’ve given me a seat over on the south side,” he answered.

“Dear me, how careless of them. Why, you’ll have the sun in your face all the time you’re not tilting, and it will give you such a headache. You’d better come into the Royal Box—they’ve got an awning over that, and you’ll be able to see much better. Do come.”

So the Prince gave his horse to his page and went with the Princess and the Owl—for you must remember that the Owl was always perched on her shoulder.

The lists were very gay with horses, and knights, and heralds, and many and great were the knights that intended to tilt. They had come from the uttermost parts of the world—from Kensington, from Nubia, from—well, from everywhere, for you see they did not get the chance of fighting for a princess every day. So you may imagine how many suitors there were. Nearly a thousand came, but a good many of them were not considered handsome enough, so they either went away in a tiff or else they stayed to look on. Still it would take a good three days before the last man had tilted.