IX.--The Enchanted Horse
In olden times there came to the Court of Persia a stranger from Ind, riding a horse made of wood, which, said he, could fly whithersoever its rider wished. When the sultan had seen the horse fly to a mountain and back, he asked the Hindu its price, and said the man: "Thy daughter's hand." Now the prince, standing by, was enraged at this insolence, but his father said: "Have no fear that I should do this thing. Howsoever, lest another king become possessed of the horse, I will bargain for it." But the impetuous prince, doubting the truth of the horse's power, jumped upon its back, turned the peg which he had observed the Hindu to turn, and instantly was borne far away.
The king, enraged that the Hindu could not bring back his son, had the man cast into prison, albeit the Hindu protested that soon the prince must discover the secret of stopping the horse by means of a second peg, and therefore would soon return.
Now the prince did not discover this secret till he was far away, and it was night. He came to earth near a palace, and going in, found there an exquisite lady sleeping, and knew by her dress that she was of a rank equal with his own. Then he pleaded to her for succour, and she constrained him to stay, and for many weeks he abode as a guest. After that time he said, "Come to my father's court, that we may be married!" And early one dawn he bore her to Persia on the back of the enchanted horse.
So glad was the king at his son's return that he released the Hindu.
Now the Hindu, hearing what had happened, determined on revenge. He found where the horse was placed, and going to the palace where the foreign princess was housed, sent for her in the sultan's name, and she came to him. Then he seated her upon the horse, and mounting up in full view of the sultan and his royal son, flew far away with his lovely captive.
It was the Hindu's desire to marry this princess, but when they were come to earth, she withstood him, and cried for help and succour. To her came the sultan of that place, and slew the Hindu, and would have married her, but she was faithful to her lover and feigned madness.
Then the sultan offered rewards to any who should cure her of this frightful madness, and many physicians came and failed. Now, her lover, distracted at sight of seeing her in mid-air with the Hindu, had turned Holy Man, roaming the earth without hope like one who is doomed.
It happened that he came to the palace where the princess lay in her feigned madness, and hearing the tale of her, and of the enchanted horse, with new hope and a great joy in his heart, he went in, disguised as a physician, and in secret made himself known.
Then he stood before the sultan of that land, and said: "From the enchanted horse hath she contracted this madness, and by the enchanted horse shall she lose it." And he gave orders to dress her in glorious array, to crown her with jewels and gold, and to lead her forth to the palace square.
A vast concourse assembled there, and the prince set his beloved lady on the horse, and pretending incantations, leapt suddenly upon its back, turned the peg, and as the enchanted steed flew towards Persia, over his shoulder cried the glad prince: "When next, O sultan, thou wouldst marry a princess who implores thy protection, ask first for her consent."
AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE
Song-Story of the Twelfth Century
If "Old Antif" of Hainault was, as the best authorities now incline to think, the author of "Aucassin and Nicolette," Belgium may claim to have produced the finest poet of the ages of chivalry. He was probably a contemporary of the English minstrel king, Richard the Lion-hearted. But nothing is known of him save what can be gathered from the exquisite story of love which he composed in his old age. Perhaps he, too, was, in his younger days, a Crusader as well as a minstrel, and fought in the Holy Land against the Saracens. His "song-story" is certainly Arabian both in form and substance. Even his hero, Aucassin, the young Christian lord of Beaucaire, bears an Arabian name--Alcazin. There is nothing in Mohammedan literature equal to "Aucassin and Nicolette." It can be compared only with Shakespeare's "As You Like It." The old, sorrowful, tender-hearted minstrel knight, who wandered from castle to castle in Hainault and Picardy seven hundred years ago, is one of the master-singers of the world.
I.--Lovers Young and Fair
Listen to a tale of love,
Which an old grey captive wove.
Great delight and solace he
Found in his captivity,
As he told what toils beset
Aucassin and Nicolette;
And the dolour undergone,
And the deeds of prowess done
By a lad of noble race,
For a lady fair of face.
Though a man be old and blind,
Sick in body and in mind,
If he hearken he shall be
Filled with joy and jollity,
So delectable and sweet
Is the tale I now repeat.
Now, a war broke out between Count Bougars of Valence and Count Garin of Beaucaire; and Count Bougars besieged Beaucaire with a hundred knights and ten thousand men. Then Count Garin, who was old and feeble, said to his fair young son, Aucassin:
"Now, son, go and defend our land and people."
"I tell you," said Aucassin, "I will never draw sword unless I have my sweet love Nicolette to wife."
"And I tell you," said his father, "that I would liefer lose life and land than see you wedded to her. What! A Saracen girl, bought by one of my captains! A slave! A heathen! A witch! God! I will burn her in a fire, and you with her."
"Stay!" said Aucassin. "I will make an agreement. I will fight Count Bougars, if you will let me speak to Nicolette after the battle."
"I agree," said his father. And he said this because Count Bougars was well night master of Beaucaire.
Aucassin went out to battle in great joy. But his father went in great anger to the captain that had bought Nicolette from the Saracens, and said:
"If I lay hands on that heathen girl, I will burn her in a fire, and you also, unless you have a care."
And the captain who had adopted Nicolette as his daughter was afraid both for himself and for his godchild. And he hid her in the tower that stood in the garden of his house.
In the tower that Nicolette
Prisoned is, may no man get.
Pleasant is her room to see,
Carved and painted wondrously.
But no pleasure can she find
In the paintings, to her mind.
Look! For she is standing there
By the window, with her hair
Yellow like autumnal wheat
When the sunshine falls on it.
Blue-grey eyes she has, and brows
Whiter than the winter snows;
And her face is like a flower,
As she gazes from the tower:
As she gazes far below
Where the garden roses blow,
And the thrush and blackbird sing
In the pleasant time of spring.
"Woe is me!" she cries, "that I
In a prison cell must lie;
Parted by a cruel spite
From my young and lovely knight.
By the eyes of God, I swear
Prisonment I will not bear!
Here for long I shall not stay:
Love will quickly find a way."