"Promise me that it won't hurt hire much?"
"Not as much as cutting off his head. Of course he may moan a little, but he is quite a brave man and I am certain he will be glad to endure the pain for your sake. I suppose you are anxious to return to Ireland at once, a happily married woman. But you must promise me one thing: Since I am doing this feat of magic to restore your lover to you, I would appreciate it if you moved part of your army so they could aid my warriors and thus show this Welshman that further resistance is useless; this will help greatly to make this a bloodless war."
She promised, and further said that she would gladly join me at supper on the morrow. When I left her she was seated silent in her golden chariot, but there was a look of happiness and hope on her lovely face.
Back in the castle I gave orders to my seneschal to prepare a proper feast for the next evening, as I would have Queen Broda, King Harold Dha, four of any nobles, and another very important personage as my guests. I sent a messenger to the King requesting his attendance at this banquet and suggesting that he had best come unarmed and with only one knight to attend him. Then I returned to the library, where FitzHugh and the priest waited for me.
"What did she want?" asked the young Lord.
"A relatively simple request," I replied. "Either I will have to remove your tail or she will demand the right to remove your head. One or the other, or this wild Irish colleen of yours will join forces with the Welsh and wash Cornwall in blood. So off comes your tail."
"No one can take my tail off," he answered, surly and sad.
"And why not?"
"You know why," was all he would say.
Certainly in that mood he was no fit playmate for a girl like Queen Broda. I saw that I would have to be rather clever or they never would marry, and there they were, madly in love and grieving themselves sick over the matter.
In spite of may best efforts and the excellent food, the banquet was a rather dismal occasion. I lost no time in showing Harold Dha what I thought of his behavior.
"My very good neighbor," remarked so all could hear me, "I am deeply puzzled over your conduct. Why, if you wished to visit me and sign a treaty of everlasting friendship, was it necessary for you to bring an array with you?"
“You mistook my motives," he replied. "When I heard that Queen Broda intended to invade Cornwall it seemed only proper for me to come to your aid. I am certain you would do the same if the barbarians from the north invaded Wales."
“That was kindly and diplomatically said," I answered, bowing, "and I hope you will never forget the lessons you have learned on this visit. Now, after you have eaten I will ask you to sign this treaty I have prepared and then leave, taking a copy with you so you may refer to it in the future when your memory of these times falls you. It would be best for you to lead your army back to Wales, starting this very night. Both Cornish and Irish warriors will accompany you so your men will not lose their way in the dark forest. And now hail and farewell and get you gone, for I have very important duties to attend which do not require your presence."
After the banquet the three of us gathered in a dismal cell far down under the castle. It was a very unpleasant place, but it was very suitable for the terrific magic I contemplated. I had sent down some rattling chains, a brazier of charcoal and some incense which threw off a nauseating odor. I had a hound-dog tied in one corner and seven rats in a wire cage hanging from the wall. It all looked horrible enough, and even my blood chilled when the hound howled, which he did every time I looked up at the rats. I had a stool for the lady to sit upon but Fitz-Hugh and I stood. I began with the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, said backward, a trick I had learned in ray boyhood. Then I threw a dead mouse oil the burning coals, closed ray eyes and just muttered. Suddenly, with a howl that startled them all, even the dog, I jumped on poor FitzHugh and began to wrestle with him. Finally I shook him loose from me and had his tail in my hand. After showing it to the Queen, I with shaking hand threw it oil the charcoal, and as it burned it gave off a mighty offensive smell.
There was no doubt left in the mind of Queen Broda. The man of Cornwall had had a tail; by my magic I had taken the tail from him; now that he no longer had the tail she could marry him. She did not waste a moment but took the lad in her arms. She kissed him; he kissed her. I marveled that any two persons could spend so much energy in such osculations. Rather tired and slightly embarrassed at being a spectator to such amorous time-passing, I suggested that we return to the library.
There the priest waited for us. The young people talked matters over and arranged for their future. The Queen said she would never forget my kindness and that I need nevermore worry about the men of Wales. FitzHugh promised he would send me a golden chain to hold the Key to Cornwall, also some books he had which I would enjoy reading. So everything was lovely and that very night they were married by my priestly friend.
The next morning when they departed I went down the road a piece with them. Of course Lord FitzHugh was riding with his bride in her golden chariot. She was silent, but her sparkling eyes and dimpled cheeks did a lot of talking. Finally he stepped out of the chariot and came over to my horse to say good-bye.
“Cecil, Overlord of Cornwall and my very kind friend,” he said earnestly, "how did you know I did not have a tail?"
That was not hard to find out,” I replied, laughing. "When I had the opportunity, I asked your mother."
We looked over at the beautiful bride.
Queen Broda sat silent in her golden chariot. She was smiling happily.
7. No Other Man
While this is the seventh in the over-all series of Tales From Cornwall, it is the third of five dealing with Cecil, Overlord of Cornwall. It followed The Battle of the Toads and The Tailed Man of Cornwall in rapid succession in WEIRD TALES, in 1929; then nearly a year passed before we saw the next story; the fifth has never been published. DAVID H. KELLER, M. D. (1880–1966) already had a substantial reputation among lovers of fantasy, science fiction, and weird tales before September 1929, when the first of his Cornwall stories to be published appeared. Followers of WEIRD TALES had seen memorable short-short stories, such as The Dogs of Salem, and The Jelly Fish; lovers of science fiction had seen The Revolt of the Pedestrians, The Menace (where Taine of San Francisco made his first appearance in print), and The Psychophonic Nurse; and the powerful (albeit implausible) The Human Termites was running simultaneously in the October issue of SCIENCE WONDER STORIES. Needless to say, the Cecil sequence was unlike anything that had been seen from Dr. Keller's hands before, and the readers’ requests for more were loud and persistent.
Ever since I slew the dragon of Thorp’s Woods, the people of Cornwall thought all they need do in time of trouble was to come to me. For a while I tried to be considerate, thinking it was part of my duties as Overlord of Cornwall to kill serpents, hang robbers, destroy giants and, in every way, make the country a pleasant and safe place to live in. Unfortunately these high ideals left little leisure to devote to my reading and the writing of my autobiography. Often I was no sooner back from one adventure, comfortably clad in velvets and starting to write my book, than a fresh emergency made it necessary to put on my armor once again and sally forth to punish more brigands or sever the head of another slithering snake. In winter the harness and armor were so cold that only after some hours of riding did my gooseflesh subside and enable me to ride my charger with any comfort.