“Mesdames, ” murmured King Valeray upon straightening.
“Valeray,” said Verdandi.
“What would you have of us?” asked the king.
Verdandi looked at Urd, and she in turn peered at Celeste among the gathering and said, “The gray arrow?”
“It is in my quarters,” said Celeste. “Shall I fetch it?
It is broken.”
Urd cackled and said, “Broken? Nay.” And with a gesture, of a sudden the arrow appeared in her hand, and even as she held it, the shaft became whole and its leaden point keen. Then she looked at it and murmured,
“Even were I to let it stay broken, still it is too deadly to remain in mortal hands.”
“Why else have you come?” asked Borel, stepping forward.
Slowly Urd turned her head toward him and canted it to one side. “Just as when once I met you by a stream, ever bold, I see. Questioning the Fates, are we?” And then she cackled in glee.
Borel pushed out a hand in negation, and Michelle looked at him quizzically.
“I believe what my son means,” said Valeray, “is-”
“We know what he meant,” snapped Urd, and she turned to Skuld.
“Yes, we came to give warning,” said Lady Wyrd, “and it is this: for a while there will be peace, yet upon a dreadful time yet to come you will all be needed, as will others. Heed me, stand ready and relax not your guard, for there will be a- Ah, but I cannot directly reveal what I have seen, yet know that one among you will be the key.”
“The key?” asked Camille.
Skuld looked at her and smiled and said, “The key.”
“So peril yet comes,” said Valeray, his words a statement, not a question.
“It does,” said Skuld.
“Be ready,” said Verdandi.
“And on guard,” added Urd, and her gaze swept across the gathering to momentarily stop upon Luc, and then moved to Camille.
And the sound of looms swelled and then vanished, and the Sisters Three vanished as well.
The gathering stood stunned for a moment, but then Valeray lifted his glass and, with a rakish grin, said,
“Here’s to interesting times!”
To interesting times! cried they all.
Epilogue
Afterthoughts
And thus ends this part of the tale that began three moons and a day past, when, upon a spring morn, Princess Celeste of the Springwood sat in a tree pondering, and a gallant knight rode to her rescue.
Yet the whole of the tale is not quite over, for on the night when all celebrated the successful quest, the Fates themselves appeared and hinted of dire times to come.
Days passed, and the sense of unease slowly abated, though vigilance did not, and finally Laurent and Blaise and Avelaine and Chevell, along with Celeste and Roel, all rode to the mortal lands, where Sieur Emile and Lady Simone wept to see that their daughter had been rescued and that their three sons were hale. Chevell did ask for the hand of Avelaine and the blessing of their union, and it was freely given. And, of course, Roel had his parents meet the Princess of the Springwood, his own bride-to-be. Within a fortnight, a wedding was held, Avelaine so beautiful in her white gown, Celeste her maid of honor, with Roel the best man to Vicomte Chevell.
Afterward, Celeste mentioned that in her demesne there lay an abandoned estate, one not too far from Springwood Manor, and if Sieur Emile and Lady Simone were of a mind, they would be more than welcome to make it their home. Subsequently, when all returned unto Faery, Emile and Simone did find the estate to their liking. .
. . and more weddings were held and pledges given: in the Winterwood, Borel and Michelle exchanged vows out in a snow-laden ’scape, though afterward all moved indoors for warm drink and food and the gala that followed. A moon beyond, in the Autumnwood, Luc and Liaze plighted their troth beneath an arbor laden with grapes, and the celebration afterward lasted well into the wee hours. Another moon passed, and in the Springwood, Roel and Celeste were wedded beside a tumbling waterfall, and joy and song and a sumptuous banquet and dance followed.
A few moons afterward, in the Summerwood wee Prince Duran was born unto Camille and Alain. .
. . And three years, seven moons, and a five-day passed.
It was then that the witch Hradian, the last surviving acolyte, consumed by hatred over the death of her sisters, conceived of her plan to set the wizard Orbane free. It was so simple, all she had to do was-
Ah, but that is another story altogether. .
’Tis better this way, for ever would I rather sail off into the unknown than to follow the tried and true.
Afterword
Although I have woven the main threads of two fairly well-known fairy tales together, as well as having injected facets from many others, to tell this single story, to my mind all of these elements truly belong in a single tale. Perhaps the original bard who might have told this saga stepped through a twilight bound, and after he was gone, various parts of the single story were split away to become individual tales. Thank heavens, they are now back together again.
The two story threads that I have woven together are
“Le Bel Inconnu,” an Arthurian tale I believe by Renaut de Beaujeu, where a knight who knows not who he is goes on a quest to rescue a maiden, and “Childe Rowland,” author unknown, an English folktale, wherein a maiden’s shadow is stolen by the King of Elfland, and her three brothers, knights all, one by one, go on a quest to rescue her, the last one being Rowland, who succeeds where his brothers do not. Of course, Once Upon a Spring Morn somewhat echoes elements of these two tales, for there are parallels. But my tale has witches and Fates and Trolls and Bogles and Goblins and Changelings and Sprites and other such throughout.
Additionally, I have included a princess in the quest, something that many ancient bards did not do (though many did) except as a victim of a nefarious being. But in my story the princess, in addition to being beautiful and clever, is quite handy with a bow, and without her aid, the male hero of this saga would have failed.
And since I have a knight and a princess as the central characters in the tale, I have cast the story with a French flavor, for, in addition to a magical adventure, this tale is a romance at heart, and French is to my mind perhaps the most romantic language of all.
One other note: throughout the telling, I have relied upon the phases of the moon. I used the earth’s own moon cycles to do so, and I hope they correspond to those in that magical place. But perhaps I am quite mistaken in my assumptions. . Who knows? For, once you cross the twilight borders and enter Faery, strange and wonderful are the ways therein.
Lastly, I enjoyed “restoring” these two fairy tales to their proper length by putting them back together to make a much longer story, as well as adding back those things I think should have been there in the first place, but which may have been omitted bit by bit down through the ages.
I hope you enjoyed reading it.
Dennis L. McKiernan
Tucson, Arizona, 2006