“It is perfect,” I replied. “It has all of the elements of white magic of the finest sort.”
“Then,” said Arthur, “Belvidere and I will be riding through the night. I understand Mallory will remain. He hath a shrew for wife, and the poor lad lets no opportunity slip to remain a night away from her, especially when he hath a leman with him.” So saying he slapped Sir Mallory on the back and laughed heartily at his discomforture, and he and Sir Belvidere went out into the night.
“Tis an odd way of selecting a queen,” I remarked.
“So it is,” agreed the grizzled old knight, “but hath no more gamble to it than any other way. Hundreds of years ago, ’tis said, the nobility gathered to see the selection of the bride, and, when the Overlord looked into the well he saw, instead of a reflection of a woman, a real one named Melusina, daughter of a Armorican fey called Pressina, and she, coming out of the well, demanded she become the Queen, and none could gainsay her right. They married, and, her clothing off, the poor Overlord found she was half woman and half snake. It was great a scandal and created new styles in clothes and pantofles. Many women claimed to be deformed just to be in style.”
“Horrible! But how came she in the well?”
“No doubt placed herself there so she could marry the Overlord. Ha, ha! It would be too bad for that old tale to spread over Cornwall just now. A dozen wells would not hold the lovely women who covet you,” and the old rogue poked me in my royal ribs as he drank another horn of ale. At last I had him escorted to his room, there to be cared for by his leman.
As soon as he left I called for Percy. I wanted to know where my copy of Elephantis was. As I suspected, she had taken it with her when she left the library and all the time I had thought she was studying her letters.
“How can you ever hope to become learned when you spend time looking at such pictures instead of devoting yourself to reading?” I scolded her.
“I do not want to be learned,” she sulked.
“What do you want? Have you no desire to improve your condition in life?” I demanded.
Tears were her only answer, so I cuffed her on the ear and bade her begone for the night. It would be one week before the night of the full moon. If I was going to have a wife, then the best place for Percy or Ruth, or whatever his or her name was, would be back in Wales. So the next morning I had a pony packed with silken gowns and jewels and had her placed on an ambling pad in charge of two of my most trusted men-at-arms, and sent her on her way.
“Go back and marry your old miser,” I said roughly, “and be an honest woman and the mother of children and cease your nonsense and your odd ways.”
“I don’t think you want me any more,” she said very seriously, and the way she looked at me and pursed her lips made me regret what I had done.
“It is not that,” I said in self-defense, “but as the Overlord of a great country I must marry and start a dynasty; so on your way, and occasionally think kindly of me, Ruth.”
So off she went back to Wales, and I thought myself well rid of a dangerous situation; for now that I was to marry and settle down, there was only one way for me to live and that was as an example to my people, a model of faithfulness and sobriety.
I sent for my seneschal. “Have all in readiness for many guests,” I commanded.
“That I will do gladly, since I am pleased to know you are to marry, Lord Cecil,” he replied. “Already I have men at work preparing a new bedroom for you, with the walls hung with beautiful tapestries appropriate to your new position. Leda and the Swan, and Hercules and the fifty and one maidens. There is an old story which I never could comprehend, and mayhaps my Lord can give me the right of it. Did Knight Hercules love the one maiden fifty times in one night or love the fifty maidens all in one night?”
“If he claimed either he was a liar, and it would be best not to have such pictures in my new bedroom, for my bride might be vexed when she compared me with this braggart from the mysterious East.” With that I dismissed him and resumed the writing of my personal history, being anxious to bring it up to date and not certain how much time I would have after my marriage. However, I had written only a few pages when I was interrupted by a visitor, none other than the priest who had married Queen Broda.
“Hail, my dear sib,” he said, and there was a twinkle in his eye. “Long since, I promised you power to conquer all who opposed you, but that power will not avail you after your wedding, for then you will be but a grain of wheat caught between the upper and the nether millstones of married life.”
“Nonsense,” I retorted. “I rule Cornwall and certainly should be able to govern my wife, as I intend to do.”
“That is what you think! But you are going to learn a deal about women, and in a short time. I shall watch your future with interest. Since you will need a priest to marry you to this unknown damsel, it would be best for me to remain in the castle as your guest till the festivities are over. How is your history progressing? Doubtless you will add to it your adventures in Cornwall. You were wise in sending that page back to Wales. Now go on with your writing while I enjoy some of your old manuscripts. You have a most interesting library, which is not to be wondered at, since I made the selection.”
The next week was a busy one. I kept open house. All the nobility called, and many of them stayed the night. There were gruff fathers and solicitous mothers and attractive daughters, almost without number. Any bachelor who could not pick a bride from these Cornwall beauties was indeed hard to please. Naturally many efforts were made to influence me — gifts, private interviews, little intrigues of every nature; but I was able to act so wisely that when the night of the full moon came all of their relatives were satisfied that I would act fairly and be influenced only by the most honest comparison between the image in the well and the lady whom this image most resembled.
We waited anxiously while the moon rose full and golden. The priest was there in his sacerdotal robes. I was more and more certain that he was the mightly magician who had conquered in the Battle of the Toads, granted me my three wishes and made me Overlord of Cornwall. He must have read my thoughts, for he winked at me and gave me the sign of the Brethren. This cheered me greatly, for, without knowing why, I felt that he would so influence my choice that nothing but happiness would result therefrom. Sir Belvidere was there and Arthur and other loving fathers, fifty in all. It would be a hard and difficult choice and I was glad that a Master Magician had a hand in the affair.
Of course none approached the well. That right was reserved for me, and I was not to look into its depth until the moon was directly above it. It was a serious, silent gathering, each hoping against hope and each hoping something different. They could not all be right. Only one lovely woman could become bride and Queen.
I trembled a little. That was from the chill night air. At the same time it was not an easy matter, even for a hardened adventurer, to go through with the program. Suppose I should be forced to select Lord Mallory’s daughter? I knew his wife, and there was no reason to think that the daughter would be otherwise. Oh, well! If the worst came to the worst, I could go hunting gerrymanders in Ethiopia.
At last the priest, who had assumed the position of master of ceremonies, called for silence and bade me walk straight to the well. The moon was now directly above the ancient hole. Trembling, I looked in, and at once covered my dazzled eyes. Then I took a step backward.
“Did you see an image therein?” asked the priest.
“I did.”
“Then from these virgins select the one whose image you saw in the Bride Well.”