Part 9 (1/2)
”Why come you here, O Peasant?” cried the wife of Brown Bear. ”Do you not know that my husband makes slaves of all men? Hasten away before he returns lest he do you greater harm than even that.”
”I care not if Brown Bear make a slave of me,” the peasant answered.
”Where is thy husband now, and why do you weep?”
”My husband, Brown Bear, is out seeking in the forest to find our little one, who wandered off and who, alas, I fear is dead. Therefore I do weep,” she answered sobbingly, ”and lest you know it not, O Peasant, let me tell you this; the loss of children is the greatest grief that ever parents suffer.”
”Indeed! I know too well what grief is that!” the peasant cried, and bursting into tears, he told the tale of his own woes. Now as he told, the wife of Brown Bear fixed her great eyes on the bundle wrapped in scarlet that he carried.
”What have you there, O Peasant?” she asked eagerly.
”A tiny baby bear I found when I fell headlong into one of Brown Bear's footprints,” he replied. ”The little one did weep from cold and hunger, and so I fed and warmed him. And as I could not find it in my heart to let him die, I took him from the pit with me.”
”It is my little one! It is my little one!” the wife of Brown Bear cried. She seized the baby bear and hugged and fondled it with joy. ”But for your kind heart, Peasant, he must have died down in the pit; so wait you till my husband comes for your reward.”
She raised her great voice in a mighty roar, and presently Brown Bear came cras.h.i.+ng through the trees. He seized the baby bear and hugged it as his wife had done, and when he heard the story thanked the peasant warmly.
”Now for this service you have rendered me, I'll give you all my gold, O Peasant,” cried Brown Bear. ”For though I do love gold beyond compare, I love my little one far more.”
”And just as dearly do I love my little one whom you did steal, O Brown Bear,” the peasant cried. ”And likewise do all parents love their little ones. Therefore if you will free all those you hold as slaves, ten thousand homes will be made happy as this home of yours to-night. I ask this boon, and you may keep your gold which you do love so dearly.”
But Brown Bear would not have it so. ”You shall have what you ask and all my gold beside,” said he. ”For while I mourned because my little one was lost, my gold brought me no gladness, but instead did mock me with its brightness.” So saying, he flung open wide the door that led beneath the mountain side and bade his slaves go free. With shouts of joy these folk ran to their homes, and all the forest rang with their rejoicing.
The peasant found his little one and held him to his heart.
”My little one! My little one!” he cried. ”I wish no more reward than this, O Brown Bear.”
”But you shall have more, even so,” said Brown Bear, and gave to him the key of the gold mine. ”Now you are richer than the king himself, and indeed, 'tis right that you should be. For what his thousand hunters with their poisoned barbs and cruel traps could never do, with your kind heart you have accomplished, Peasant. Go tell the king and all his subjects that they need fear me nevermore. Through mine own grief I know the sorrows I have caused, and from henceforth I'll live in peace with man.”
The peasant thanked him and with his little one departed for his home, and there a mult.i.tude of grateful folk were gathered to greet him. And from that day the peasant was no longer poor. As owner of the rich gold mine, he now became a man of wealth. The king respected him and made him n.o.ble because he had done n.o.ble service for the kingdom. His t.i.tle was Duke Kindlyheart.
In closing this strange tale, I too must say that Brown Bear kept his word and nevermore molested travelers journeying through the forest.
Indeed, he grew so friendly with the king and court that he fought all their wars for them and brought them many victories. When Brown Bear died at last, as creatures all must do, the people wept for him, and all the kingdom put on mourning.
CHAPTER VI
THE BEGGAR PRINCESS
Once upon a time there lived a king who had great wealth and also many daughters, among whom he divided his kingdom before he died. That is, he gave lands and estates to all but his fourth daughter, the Princess Yvonne, who from her lack of fortune was forced to seek her living in the world. Having not a copper piece for her pocket and no gold save the gold of her hair, which, though it was very beautiful, nevertheless would not feed or clothe her, she was forced to beg her bread from door to door and became known as Yvonne, the Beggar Princess. And the reason of it all was this.
The king, being very wise, wished his daughters to wed none but princes from the most powerful thrones in the world. As soon as each daughter reached the age to marry, the king invited to his court the suitors for her hand. The first and second daughters married the princes of their father's choice and went off to their palaces rejoicing, and so likewise did the third daughter. Because of their obedience, the king was pleased and gave them land and great riches for their marriage portions. He then turned his attention to find a husband for his fourth daughter, the Princess Yvonne, the fairest and most charming of them all.
Now all unknown to her father, Yvonne, loved Prince G.o.dfrey of the Westland Kingdom. They had often met in the forest, and there they had vowed their love to one another. Prince G.o.dfrey had wished to ask for the hand of Yvonne, but she, knowing her father's iron will, begged him to delay.
”My father is a stern king and rules his daughters in all things,” said the princess. ”He would part us forever should it come to him that we had dared to do aught without his consent. Return, I pray you, to your kingdom and there await my father's summons, for I have heard him say that you would be bidden to his court as suitor for my hand.”
Prince G.o.dfrey, much against his will, consented to do as Yvonne asked.
He kissed her farewell and departed that very evening for the Westland Kingdom. What befell him on the homeward journey, Princess Yvonne never knew, but she saw him no more. She carried his image in her heart and could love no other prince, though her father sent far and near for suitors to please her. Knowing nothing of her love for Prince G.o.dfrey, at last the king placed her refusals to a stubborn spirit.
”My daughter, Yvonne,” said he, after she had refused five princes in as many days, ”how do you know whom you love or whom you love not? You, my fourth daughter, cannot pretend to know as much as I, your father. Where have you been to learn of this nonsense that you call love?”
To which the princess made reply: ”That I cannot tell, my father, except that my heart bids me marry only the prince whom I shall love well, and of these princes you have brought hither I love none at all. I pray you now, turn your attention to the affairs of my younger sisters, who are anxious to wed, and leave me for a little longer in peace.” She was so gentle in her speech and so winning in her manner that the king forgot his vexation and busied himself with seeking suitors for his younger daughters.