IX JEHAN THE GOLDHAIRED[A]

IX JEHAN THE GOLDHAIRED[A]

I

There was once a village lad whose name was Jehan, but because of the golden curls that covered his head they called him “Goldhair;” and because he chose to sit at home and read his grandame’s parchment book of knightly glory and fairy gold, while the other lads tilled the fields or roamed the woods, they called him a milksop, and he was laughed at and sometimes roughly treated by his parents and elder brothers. But his aged grandame, who dwelt in a lonely tower on a heath, and who was called the “wise dame,” would shake her staff at them and prophesy fame and fortune for her favorite.

It was in the high tide of summer and all the villagers were in the upland fields cutting grain. Indeed, so large were the wheat-fields of Goldhair’s countryside, that it was called “The Land of the Wheaten-shocks,” and Goldhair was often named in derision, “My Lord of Wheaten-shock.” Early one morning as the household ate the porridge and yellow cream which the serving wench poured in earthen bowls, Goldhair came into the rush-lighted kitchen, his grandsire’s sword clanking along the flagged floor. For, though they tilled the soil, the forebears of his family had worn armor and fought under a crested banner.

Goldhair was a brave sight that morning with his coat of scarlet and his hosen of green; a pheasant’s feather curled from his cap; a scrip hung over his shoulder, and he girded the good sword at his side.

“Whither away, son Jehan, when my wheat hangs heavy for the sickle?” thus his father.

“Whither away, son Jehan, when the water buckets await thee at the well, that the reapers may not be athirst?” cried his mother.

“Whither away?” said his little sisters, “and why do you wear your holiday dress, Jehan?”

“Whither away?” chorused his three great brothers, their smocks upgirded for the reaping and their brown arms and legs bare.

“I go into the wide, wide world,” answered Jehan, “to seek fame and fortune and to bring back the nut-brown fay for a wife.”

Now I must tell you that in an ancient wood nearby there dwelt a fay, a lovely creature with long, brown hair that clothed her like a garment. She seemed to serve and love all the woodland beasts and birds, and they often heard her sing there at twilight. Many a lad spent hours trying to catch a glimpse of her, but heard only the flitting of a light body through the leaves and a laugh like a wood bird’s call.

Within the depths of the wood, there stood a ruined castle. Though its drawbridge was gone and its moat a mere reed-grown swamp, the great iron gates stood closed and none had ever dared to scale its massive walls; for at night when the wind rocked the great old forest trees and the screech-owls cried weirdly, strange lights flickered in its iron-barred windows and strange wails echoed from its vine-covered walls. It was to this fearful place that Goldhair had full intent of going, though he dared not say so, for fear they would forcibly detain him. So, amid the jeers of his brothers, the reproof of his father, and the tears of his mother and sisters, he set out to seek his fortune in the wide, wide world and to bring back the nut-brown fay.

II

As the sun rose, Goldhair stepped into the dim aisles of the forest and

He pressed on to where no birds’ notes sounded, nor any noise of life broke the silence, save the soft rustle of some leaf, or the silver tinkle of a stream. Six nights Goldhair lay down under the moonless sky. Six days he walked alone in the wood and his scrip was empty of food and he was footsore and weary when he arose on the seventh morning.

Before him, the trees seemed to open into a softly lit glade and he caught a glimpse of a white beckoning hand, and hastening forward, fell over a great moss-hidden stone and was set upright again by a strong arm, while sweet lips brushed his cheek and he saw before him the sparkling eyes and shining face of the nut-brown fay. She was clad in a brown kirtle, all rent and shredded like the falling bark of an old tree. Her snowy feet were bare and a rustic scrip hung at her side. Now she took from her scrip and gave him rosy apples and brown cakes and a shell with which she dipped him water from a rivulet nearby, and they sat them down together on the grass and began to dine as if they were old friends.

“O fair one with golden hair, and so bravely scarlet clad, what is the name of thee?” asked the fay, and he told her his name and his condition and of how he had set out in quest of fame and fortune.

“But now,” said Jehan, shaking his gold hair so that it sparkled, even in the dark wood, “I want but one thing and that—that you love me as I do love thee.”

“And so I will,” said the brown fay heartily, “and fame and fortune will come to thee if thou art a faithful lover and fearless knight. But many trials must assail us and I have great fear for thee, for already, she who sits in the gray death hall knows you have come; and amid the shadows of evil that obey her will, she is plotting our destruction. Long have I served, a thrall in her hall and bower, and now it will be no easy thing for you to win me and my fortune from her.”

Later when they had come where they could look across the clearing the fay cried to Jehan, “Look forth, O my Goldhair, and see what thou seest,” and Goldhair looked and said, “I see an exceedingly high and handsome castle of rough-hewn stone.”

“Oh, that is my mistress’ home, and I fear to look upon it. What comes down the stony stair, Goldhair?”

“Nothing.”

“No great white bear?”

“Nay, him I would kill with my sword.”

“No great winged serpent?”

“Nay, her I would chop with my sharp blade.”

“No poison flood?”

“Nothing, sweet fay, but leafy shadows flecking the gray stone.”

“No flash of flame?”

“Nay, I would call upon my patron saints and at their blessing it would die away.”

“My heart fails me. O Jehan! In some such guise must my dread mistress appear, for I know well she sees all things in this wood and will never let us fare forth free from it. Look again, beloved Jehan.”

“Ah, now I see a most beautiful queen all alone, dressed in a coat of peacock feathers and shod in gold. How fair she is as she smiles upon me in the sunshine! She beckons me to come. Her hair is like silver lying to her feet.”

“O look not so. O look not so on her! She has bewitched thee, Jehan, her hair is twisted serpents. Dost not see she is an ancient witch, one-eyed and horrible? She is only beautiful by enchantment,” and the fay seized and held his scarlet coat; but Jehan laughed and thrust her from him.

“Thou little brown thrush whom I found in the woods, seek not to peck the robe of light from the queen of beauty.”

The brown fay scarcely knew her lover now; his glance was only for the enchantress, and though the fay could see her dusky skin, skeleton limbs, and horrid, toothless grin, to poor Jehan she seemed a vision of beauty, and with a cry he broke from her hold and ran to fall at the feet of the witch, who threw her arms about his neck and with a triumphant laugh led him into the castle and shut the great iron-bound door upon the poor fay.

All day she sadly wandered through the woods, and finally when night came she lay down under a bramble-bush and sobbed herself to sleep; but as she slept she felt a cool hand touch her brow, and looking up saw a tall being, like a shaft of green light. It was crowned with a garland of leaves and its face was kind and beautiful.

“Fear not, little forest fay,” it said, “thou art a daughter of the trees, and we, the tree-folk, will help thee.”

Now the witch had cast a spell upon Jehan until he saw the empty ruins as a stately castle all filled with costly furnishings and treasures of silver and gold. And her, he saw, as a beautiful queen, and the ugly messengers of evil who came at her bidding, he believed to be gallant lords and fair ladies. All day he sat beside the witch queen on her throne and heard the pretty stories she told him hour by hour. Entranced in a half slumber, he listened to mandolins beside the tinkling fountain of a court that was really a bare, unwatered spot, the home of hideous spiders and spotted toads. All memory of the nut-brown fay seemed gone from him, yet ever and anon he thought he heard a sweet voice call, “Jehan, beware!” “Jehan, beware!” and wondered what it might mean.

III

Now came the day of his wedding to the witch, and banners of scarlet and gold flaunted to the breeze; rich carpets and tapestries lined floors and halls, but in reality, only cobwebs draped the crumbly walls. Jehan sat at breakfast beside the witch amid a great crowd of company. And the warlocks, demons, spirits, and wizards that flocked there like crowds of evil birds, he believed to be noble guests who, richly clad, bent to do him honor as the liege lord of their queen.

As they sat at breakfast and the witch raised the marriage cup to her lips, though it was mid-morn, the darkness of midnight fell upon them and all the guests cried out and ran about wildly, for the tree-folk had helped the fay, as they promised, and bent about the castle shutting out the sun. Emboldened by the darkness, the evil creatures began to tear and fight with each other, and all sought to destroy the witch who ruled them. But she held them back by her superior power and cried out that whoever had worked the enchantment should go free from the castle with what belonged to him and a rich reward if he would bring back the light.

Then spake a sweet voice, “I am she who will do this; but I will to sit by the bridegroom’s side, between him and the bride, until ye rise up at night-time, and I will to carry as much treasure as my small basket will hold and that which belongs to me besides when I go forth. Yet ye shall swear a binding oath that I shall go free with all that belongs to me.”

“What sure oath shall I make?” said the witch queen smiling wickedly, for she knew only one oath unbreakable; but the voice answered and named that oath!

“Thou shalt swear by the one eye in thy head and the evil ghosts and spirits that throng these cursed halls.”

Then a great wail went up in the dark, but the witch said loudly, “I swear, because I wish to look again upon the light of day and the gold hair of Jehan my love.”

So there was peace; the light came again; the queen was beautiful once more and the guests handsome and courteous. But Goldhair seemed to dream of the wood and the lovely fay who fed him there, and though the witch smiled and laid her hand upon his he sat looking across the hall when there came towards him a lovely maid in a gown of green leaves. Like moonlight on a summer’s eve she passed along the hall. It was the nut-brown fay who carried a golden basket which she set down upon the table at his side. Then she sat herself between him and the queen, but the witch queen smiled and waved her hand and Jehan was like one in sleep, and though the maiden poured his wine and whispered into his ear he knew her not.

“O Goldhair, dost forget the mirk wood and the meal we ate together? Dost thou forget the nut-brown fay? Dost thou forget the land of wheaten shocks where thou wast to take me, as thy bride, to thy father’s house?”

But the witch queen sat and smiled and opened a casket which stood before her to play with its great jewels which she took forth by handfuls. And as she tossed them to and fro in her fingers they glittered like rainbows in the sunshine. But the bridegroom saw and heard not. Only through the enchantment he seemed to dream of a loved voice and that his mother and sisters beckoned from his home door.

Then the maiden opened her basket and took therefrom a pair of milk-white doves, and taking food from the table, fed them from her hand; but the hen bird fed her mate with her rosy bill, and as the maid crumbled the bread, Jehan gazed on her white hand and seemed to remember a time when he, like the tender dove, was also fed by that kindly hand; but the witch touched him on the brow and all memory faded.

Then the male bird fought his tender mate to get the food she was eating, and as he looked on this, memory came to Jehan and he cried, “Foul bird! as ungrateful as I, to the kind love that fed me!” Then the maiden kissed his cheek and he knew and loved her again and he saw the witch and her servants as they really were, and springing up he, with his sword, drove back the monsters that would have torn them to pieces.

The witch, with a hideous yell, came towards them with a flagon of liquid fire, bent on their destruction. Then Jehan caught up the fay in his arms and with the good two-edged sword gave one stroke and the head of the witch went flying through the air, and she and all of the company vanished, leaving them alone in the hall. Emptying the jewel casket into her basket, the fay took Jehan by the hand and they went forth free, out of the castle, through the great gate, into the green wood.

IV

Happily they walked on, but ere they had gone far the fay cried, “Now turn you, my love, Jehan!” and after them came a great white bear, his teeth agleam and paws outstretched. Again the good sword flashed in the sun and the bear lay dead on the greensward. Then on and on they fled.

“Turn ye, Jehan, my love,” again cried the fay. And behold, a great green dragon with long scaly body lashed at them, and only after a mighty battle was he chopped into pieces.

Then they went across a wide plain. It was now evening, and so weary and footsore were they, that they fain would have rested, but ere the stars came out a red mist rolled along the ground towards them and the fay cried aloud in fear:

“Now we are lost indeed, for this is the poison flood.”

On they sped toward a forest with the great red waves rolling after them. And where they passed, grasses lay sear and the flowers withered and died. Then cried the nut-brown fay, stretching out her hands towards the tall trees:

“O my woodland folk, save us.” As she spoke they entered the wood and the venomous flood rolled to their feet; but the good tall trees sucked down the flood into their strong roots, and where the vapor rolled, a bright stream sprang up and Goldhair and the fay laved their hot faces in its silvery coolness.

Now did Jehan rejoice for, said he, “Won are all our fights,” but the fay answered him:

“Nay, for the night cometh down and I fall into sleep and thou must carry me as I sleep, and whatever may betide, if you lay me down, you lay me in my grave.”

So Jehan promised to obey her and took her in his arms. There she lay against his breast and slept. The moon came up, round and golden, and peered through the branches on Jehan walking with the sleeping fay in his arms, his naked sword in his hand. By and by, the moon was darkened by great batlike creatures which fluttered about them and gnashed upon him with their sharp teeth; but Jehan waved his sword and called upon the names of St. Gabriel and St. Michael for deliverance, and they flew away shrieking.

Then there sounded a woeful cry. A woman ran towards them with a man following at her heels, a long dagger in his hand.

“Save me! Save me! brave Jehan,” she cried, kneeling at his feet while tears ran down her pallid face, and the man dressed in a sheepskin coat came running quickly with his weapon gleaming in the moonlight.

Now was Jehan hard pressed, for to fight for her life he must lay down his sleeping love and he could not see the woman die. Yet, as he bent to lay the fay on the grass, under an oak, the leaves murmured in his ear, “Beware! Beware!” and making the sign of the cross with his drawn sword in the air Jehan heard a great wail and the two figures disappeared in a puff of smoke. And thus he was free from the enchantment. Then the sleeping fay awoke and slid from his arms to kiss him right roundly. And the sun came up as they climbed the hill above the Land of the Wheaten-shocks, and he saw the smoke from his father’s house. And as they went down the green valley to the town, his kinfolk came running forth to meet him and his bride. And thus entering his home, amid rejoicing, he drew the fay after him, and forgetting all of their trials Jehan the Goldhaired and the nut-brown fay dwelt happy ever afterward.