The Fair One with Golden Locks 2/3
The second part of the twelfth tale from Fairy Tales & Fables
Another day he met with a Raven that was in great distress, being pursued by an Eagle, which would have swallowed him up in no time. “See,” thought Avenant, “how the stronger oppress the weaker! What right has an Eagle to eat up a Raven?” So taking his bow and arrow, which he always carried, he shot the Eagle dead, and the Raven, delighted, perched in safety on an opposite tree.
“Avenant,” screeched he, though not in the sweetest voice in the world, “you have generously succored me, a poor miserable Raven. I am not ungrateful, and I will recompense you one day.”
“Thank you,” said Avenant, and continued his road.
Entering in a thick wood, so dark with the shadows of early morning that he could scarcely find his way, he heard an Owl hooting, like an owl in great tribulation. She had been caught by the nets spread by bird-catchers to entrap finches, larks, and other small birds. “What a pity,” thought Avenant, “that men must always torment poor birds and beasts who have done them no harm!” So he took out his knife, cut the net, and let the Owl go free. She went sailing up in the air, but immediately returned hovering over his head on her brown wings.
“Avenant,” said she, “at daylight the bird-catchers would have been here, and I should have been caught and killed. I have a grateful heart. I will recompense you one day.”
These were the three principal adventures that befell Avenant on his way to the kingdom of the Fair One with Golden Locks. Arrived there, he dressed himself with the greatest care, in a habit of silver brocade, and a hat adorned with plumes of scarlet and white. He threw over all a rich mantle, and carried a little basket, in which was a lovely little dog, an offering of respect to the Princess. With this he presented himself at the palace gates, where even though he came alone, his mien was so dignified and graceful, so altogether charming, that every one did him reverence, and was eager to run and tell the Fair One with Golden Locks, that Avenant, another ambassador from the King, her suitor, awaited an audience.
“Avenant!” repeated the Princess. “That is a pretty name. Perhaps the youth is pretty too.”
“So beautiful,” said the ladies of honor, “that while he stood under the palace window we could do nothing but look at him.”
“How silly of you!” sharply said the Princess. But she desired them to bring her robe of blue satin, to comb out her long hair, and adorn it with the freshest garland of flowers, to give her her high-heeled shoes, and her fan. “Also,” added she, “take care that my audience-chamber is well swept and my throne well dusted. I wish in everything to appear as becomes the Fair One with Golden Locks.”
This done she seated herself on her throne of ivory and ebony and gave orders for her musicians to play, but softly, so as not to disturb conversation. Thus, shining in all her beauty, she admitted Avenant to her presence.
He was so dazzled that at first he could not speak. Then he began and delivered his harangue to perfection.
“Gentle Avenant,” returned the Princess, after listening to all his reasons for her returning with him, “your arguments are very strong, and I am inclined to listen to them, but you must first find for me a ring, which I dropped into the river about a month ago. Until I recover it, I can listen to no proposition of marriage.”
Avenant, surprised and disturbed, made her a profound reverence and retired, taking with him the basket and the little dog Cabriole, which she refused to accept. All night long he sat sighing to himself. “How can I ever find a ring which she dropped into the river a month ago? She has set me an impossibility.”
“My dear master,” said Cabriole, “nothing is an impossibility to one so young and charming as you are. Let us go at daybreak to the riverside.”
Avenant patted him, but replied nothing until, worn out with grief, he slept. Before dawn Cabriole wakened him, saying, “Master, dress yourself and let us go to the river.”
There Avenant walked up and down, with his arms folded and his head bent, but saw nothing. At last he heard a voice, calling from a distance, “Avenant, Avenant!”
The little dog ran to the waterside. “Never believe me again, master, if it is not a golden Carp with a ring in its mouth!”
“Yes, Avenant,” said the Carp, “this is the ring which the Princess has lost. You saved my life in the willow meadow, and I have recompensed you. Farewell!”
Avenant took the ring gratefully and returned to the palace with Cabriole, who scampered about in great glee.
Craving an audience, he presented the Princess with her ring, and begged her to accompany him to his master’s kingdom. She took the ring, looked at it, and thought she was surely dreaming.
“Some fairy must have assisted you, fortunate Avenant,” said she.
“Madam, I am only fortunate in my desire to obey your wishes.”
“Obey me still,” she said graciously. “There is a prince named Galifron, whose suit I have refused. He is a giant as tall as a tower, who eats a man as a monkey eats a nut. He puts cannons into his pockets instead of pistols, and when he speaks, his voice is so loud that every one near him becomes deaf. Go and fight him, and bring me his head.”
Avenant was thunderstruck, but after a time he recovered himself. “Very well, madam, I shall certainly perish, but I will perish like a brave man. I will depart at once to fight the Giant Galifron.”
The Princess, now in her turn surprised and alarmed, tried every persuasion to induce him not to go, but in vain. Avenant armed himself and started, carrying his little dog in its basket. Cabriole was the only creature that gave him consolation, “Courage, master! While you attack the giant, I will bite his legs. He will stoop down to strike me, and then you can knock him on the head.” Avenant smiled at the little dog’s spirit, but he knew it was useless.
Arrived at the castle of Galifron, he found the road all strewn with bones, and carcasses of men. Soon he saw the giant walking. His head was level with the highest trees, and he sang in a terrific voice:
Bring me babies to devour;
More—more—more—more—
Men and women, tender and tough;
All the world holds not enough.
To which Avenant replied, imitating the tune:
Avenant you here may see,
He is come to punish thee.
Be he tender, be he tough,
To kill thee, giant, he is enough.
The End, Part Two