MAGHAR’S LEAP.
It chanced upon a time, a very great many years ago, while fairies and magicians still dwelt upon earth, that a youth and maiden—brother and sister—were walking in a forest, talking about their recent misfortunes, and laying plans for their future. The youth was clad in armor, according to the warlike fashion of those times. But he had under his arm a book, which was not in accordance with the fashion of those times. The maiden wore a dress of some coarse woolen stuff; and, in her hands she held a sheet of parchment, and a pen.
Suddenly there broke into their quiet talk the sound of clashing arms, and the mad plunging of horses. Sybil, the maiden, stopped terrified.
“Oh!” she cried, “it is the noise of battle! Too well I know those sounds. Let us go quickly back!”
“Let us go forward a little way,” said Maghar, the youth, “to yon opening in the woods. Or, stop here, if you fear, and I will go alone and look out.”
“No,” said Sybil, “if you go I will follow.”
Together they looked out upon the open plain. Two hostile armies had met unexpectedly, and a fierce conflict had commenced.
“Alas!” said Sybil, shuddering. “There are the savage infidels that laid waste our home!”
“Yes,” said Maghar, excitedly, “and here, on this side, are our countrymen, and neighbors! I must bear a hand in this fight!”
“And leave me alone!” cried Sybil. “I have only you left! Your single arm will not count for much in a battle!”
“It would be a shame to me,” said Maghar, “to sneak off, like a coward, and leave our friends and Christian soldiers, when their forces are few, and every warrior counts. Have I not my armor? I shall find shield and spear on the battle-field on some poor fellow who has already fallen in the fray. Do not fear, sister! Go back to Christern’s cottage. There you will be safe; and I will return in a few hours.”
So saying, he led Sybil back into the forest to the path leading to Christern’s cottage; gave the book into her hands; and, kissing her good-bye, he ran out of the woods as fast as the weight of his armor would allow.
SYBIL’S WATCH.
But Sybil did not return to the cottage. She was too anxious about her brother; and, going to the entrance of the wood, she crouched among the trees, where she was hidden from view, and watched the progress of the fight. She was ready to fly if the tide of battle brought the armies too near. But they seemed to be gradually moving away from her. She soon singled out her brother. He had secured a spear and shield, and mounted a riderless horse. In a few minutes he was lost in the throng, and she saw him no more.
Her mind was filled with sad forebodings. This Infidel army had invaded the country, and laid it waste; had killed her parents, and overthrown, and utterly ruined the beautiful castle that had been her home. A few things had been saved by old Christern, a much loved servant of the family, and these constituted the property of Maghar and Sybil. Old Christern’s cottage, in the depths of the forest, was the refuge of the orphans. There they had lived for several weeks, and no way of retrieving their fortunes seemed open to them. Maghar was a fine scholar. His father had had him taught to read his own language and Latin, and to write a very beautiful hand. That was the extent of his knowledge; and it was a great deal at a time when very few of the richest people knew their letters.
And now, in their poverty, there seemed to be very little use for his learning. Nobody cared anything about it. He might copy manuscript for some learned man, and get a living this way, for printing and paper had not then been invented; and all books were written on parchment. But Maghar had a contempt for a clerk, as he called a copyist, and did not fancy this method of supporting his sister and himself. Nevertheless, the two were that day on their way to the abode of a great and learned man to see if he wished anything of this kind done; and if he would buy their only book—a Latin volume, written on parchment, and beautifully illuminated and bound in wooden covers.
Sybil went over these things in her mind as she watched the battle, trying, in vain, to distinguish the form of her brother. She soon saw to her dismay, that the Infidel forces had turned the flank of the Christian army, and that the ranks of the latter were broken, and they were retreating, closely followed by their enemies. She stood up now, and strained her eyes to watch them until they had all disappeared over the crest of a hill. Then she sadly returned to Christern’s cottage to tell the old man of this new and terrible misfortune.
Days passed away, and Maghar did not return. Christern learned that the Christian army was broken, and the soldiers scattered. Some had returned to their homes. The wounded were cared for among their friends. The dead were buried. But Maghar was with none of these. No one could tell anything about him, except that he had fought bravely.
Then Sybil determined to seek out the great and learned man to whom Maghar had intended to offer his services as copyist. She was somewhat afraid of him, for he was known to be a powerful magician. But he could, no doubt, tell her the fate of Maghar, and she would try to overcome her fears.
She took off the coarse peasant’s dress she had been wearing, and arrayed herself in her best robe of fine white cashmere, which was one of the things that Christern had managed to save. She loosened her beautiful hair, which fell nearly to her feet. This last she did to show the deep sorrow she was in. She also took with her the Latin volume, as a present, to propitiate the powerful magician.
The great man lived in the simplest manner in a rocky cavern. Sybil found him outside his dwelling, seated on a mossy stone, sorting some plants that lay in his lap. He did not look up as she approached, and she had a good opportunity to study his countenance, which was so sweet and gentle that her fear of him vanished; and she came forward quite boldly, greeted him, and presented her book.
But the magician waved the volume aside. “I know why you seek me, sister of Maghar,” he said, kindly.
“Oh, can you tell me aught of my brother?” cried Sybil.
“I know not where he is. The oracles would not enlighten me without your presence. Come into my dwelling, and we will consult them.”
So saying he conducted her into his cave through a low, dark passage way. Great was Sybil’s astonishment when she found herself in a vast room, with a lofty ceiling. Around the circular walls was a continuous row of lamps, kept constantly burning. Their light was reflected from myriads of stalactites that hung from the roof, glowing with all the colors of the rainbow, making the rough, rocky chamber as brilliant and gorgeous as a fairy palace. In the centre of the room stood a brazier, filled with burning coals, and near it, a large iron harp, with silver strings, and a sort of cupboard, made of iron. A few rough couches were scattered around. And this was all the furniture the room contained.
The magician invited Sybil to take a seat. He then proceeded to place on his head a crown, woven of vines of magical virtues. He took from the cupboard some singular-looking vessels, and mixed in them various powders and liquids. Then, pouring all their contents into a copper pot, he placed it on the coals, seated himself on a stone near it, drew his harp in front of him, and motioned to Sybil to stand before it. He looked so pleasantly upon her she did not feel afraid, but her heart beat fast, not knowing what fearful thing she might see.
She saw nothing whatever but the harp, and the old man; for, as soon as the clouds of fragrant white smoke that poured out from the brazier, had completely enveloped the two, the magician swept his fingers over his harp, and began to sing. Then Sybil forgot everything else, for his chant was of Maghar.
SYBIL AND THE MAGICIAN.
He sang of the great deeds Maghar had done in the battle, and how he had made himself famous. He was the last prisoner taken by the Infidels; and was now confined in a castle several leagues distant. The Infidel army was there encamped. They would like to slay Maghar outright, but were afraid of the vengeance of the Christian armies near them if they murdered a man held in such esteem. He was at present undisturbed, but the probability was that, after a time, they would decide to starve him to death, and give out word that he had died from sickness. His sister had thus a little time in which to work to save him.
Here the song ended, and the weeping girl begged the great magician to save her brother. This he said was not in his power. She must find a good fairy, and make it her friend. The small creature could get into the castle, see her brother, and, together, they could devise a way of escape. He might, perhaps, be able to help them then. He told her what roads to follow to reach the castle; and, assuring her that such a good girl would surely find a good fairy to assist her in her trouble, he dismissed her with his blessing.
That very day Christern and Sybil set out for the castle. They reached the place after three days’ journey. They told no one what their errand was in that part of the country; and there were so many homeless people in the land that their appearance excited no surprise. Christern soon found employment among the wood-cutters, and fitted up a deserted hut as a temporary dwelling.
But though they could, every day, look upon the walls of the castle in which Maghar was confined, they seemed no nearer to him than before. He was in the hands of the cruel infidels, and where were there any fairies? There were plenty in that part of the country, the wood-cutters said, which, at first, was encouraging. But, on inquiry, it turned out that not one of them had ever seen a fairy, or knew anybody who ever had seen one. Sybil was in despair as the days went by, and she blamed her friend, the magician, that he had given her no help, after all.
She often walked through the woods, near nightfall, to meet Christern. One evening, as the two were returning together to their hut, they saw a large wild boar approaching, followed by several young ones. As this creature is very savage when it has its young to defend, Christern and Sybil thought it wise to step aside among the trees, and leave the path to the boar and its interesting family. After these had passed they continued their way, but had not gone far when they saw a young boar lying in the path. Christern stooped over to examine it.
THE BOAR FAMILY.
“It got in with that litter,” said he, “and did not belong to it, so the old boar has gored it badly. But it is not dead. I’ll take it home, make a sty for it, and, if it lives, I’ll fatten it, and kill it when it is fit for eating.”
The wounded animal lifted an appealing glance to Sybil. Its eyes wore an almost human expression of suffering, and a most beseeching plea for help. The girl’s heart was touched.
“It is not badly hurt,” she said. “Its flesh is torn, but if I wash its wounds, and bind them up, and find a nice place in the woods, where I can make it comfortable, and feed it, it will get well. It is a free, wild creature, and must not be shut up in a close sty. Think of my dear brother shut up when he wants to be free!”
Christern thought Sybil’s plan a foolish one, but this last argument silenced him. He had not a word to say in reply. So the girl washed off the blood from the boar’s wounds with her fine cambric handkerchief, which she then tore into strips to bind them up. She found, in a secluded place, a soft cushion of moss on which she laid him, and partly covered him with leaves to keep him warm. She then brought from the hut some of her own scanty supper, and gave it to the little boar.
After this she visited her patient two or three times a day, nursing and feeding him. But, on the afternoon of the fourth day, he had disappeared, and Sybil returned to the hut feeling quite lonely at the loss of the little creature that had been so glad to see her.
The next night, as Christern was returning late from his work, trudging slowly through the forest, with his lantern swinging in his hand, and his wallet slung over his back on the end of his walking stick, something brushed close by the old man’s ear with a buzzing of tiny wings.
“That dragon-fly is out late,” said the old man to himself.
Very soon the wings brushed by him again with a louder whizzing.
“It is a bat!” said the old man, shaking his head. “Shoo! shoo!” But the third time the whirring wings flew almost into his face.
“Good evening, old Christern!” said a tiny voice, such as might come from a humming-bird, if it could speak.
The startled old man stopped and flashed the light of his lantern around among the trees. And there, with wee wings outspread, was a fairy skimming through the air! Christern had never seen a fairy, but he knew this was one as soon as he saw him. And a jolly, rollicking fellow he was!
CHRISTERN AND THE FAIRY.
“You don’t know me, old fellow?” said the fairy.
Christern shook his head.
“Wanted to shut me up in a sty, and fatten me, eh? I wouldn’t be much of a mouthful now, would I? Don’t you wish you could get me?”
And the saucy fellow soared high up among the trees.
Christern nearly dropped his lantern in his astonishment. “You don’t ever mean to tell me that boars are fairies?” he said, at last.
“I mean to say nothing of the kind!” cried the fairy, indignantly. “Your horrid, beastly boars are no relations of ours, even! I’ll tell you how it was,” he said, coming nearer Christern, and speaking in a confidential tone. “Our fairies all have wings, and can fly, but there are other kinds without wings. Some of these are good, but some are bad, and they are full of spite against us because we are better off than they. I offended a tribe of these not long ago, and they had influence with a wicked old witch who changed me into a little boar. I was to remain in that shape for a week. She would have made the time longer, if she could. But they all thought I would be killed in that time. And so I should have been but for your Sybil. And there was another thing worse than death. If I was deprived of my liberty during that week, I could never again regain my natural shape. So, if you had put me in your sty, I would have been eaten up one of these days as a boar. From this awful fate your Sybil saved me. So I am doubly indebted to her, and I want to do something for her.”
“Oh, you are the good fairy, who is to save our Maghar!” cried the old man, joyfully.
Thereupon he related the whole sad story, and the fairy told him he would consult with his tribe that night; and, if he and Sybil would come to that spot on the following night he would let them know what could be done.
Sybil’s delight was unbounded. She now felt sure that her brother would be saved. But, nevertheless she accompanied Christern to the place of meeting, half fearing that the frisky fairy would play her some trick. But he was there, before them, and had dressed himself in his best suit of green in honor of the occasion.
As soon as they appeared he began chattering as fast as ever he could.
“We fairies have hit upon a splendid plan,” he said. “But there is no time to lose. Sybil, I have seen your brother, but he did not see me. I was at the castle this morning before cock-crow. I flew in through a loop-hole. Nobody saw me. It took me a long time to find out in what room your brother was kept, but, at last, I made it out. I intended to stay until I did. He is in a room, high up in the north tower. He has been pretty well, but now his jailers have begun the plan of starving him; and he will soon be too weak to save himself as we propose, which is the only way open to him. It requires steady nerves, and great courage. But do not weep, for we will save him, only it must be done speedily. Do you, Christern, be ready to go with me to the castle at break of day. Pretend you are a beggar. There are so many of these you will pass unsuspected. I will point out to you a small postern door at the back of the castle, stay about that; and I will hide near it. I could slip inside easily enough, and tell Maghar what to do, but he does not know me, and would not trust me. So you must get inside the castle some way and see him. And, not only that, but you must get out again. And this is our plan for doing this. We fairies have three magical cocks. At a signal from me these cocks will appear on the crest of the hill at the back of the castle, and will sing a song. This will so astonish the sentinels that they will be thrown off their guard. I will then slip in through a loop-hole, unlock the postern door, and let you in. We will tell Maghar how he can escape. Then the cocks will appear again, and while the attention of the guards is distracted, we will get out of the castle. Remember now to be here at daybreak.”
And the fairy disappeared, much to Sybil’s regret, who had a hundred questions to ask him about her brother’s appearance, and treatment. He had not even told her what his plan was for her brother’s escape. But he did not come back, and she was obliged to be satisfied with the information she had.
The programme was carried out in every particular. Christern acted his part of beggar so well that he managed to get near the postern door, unsuspected, with the fairy snugly tucked into a fold of his ragged dress. On arriving at the place the fairy concealed himself in some vines. At the appointed signal three magnificent cocks appeared abreast on the top of the hill.
THREE MAGICAL COCKS.
The like of these cocks had never been seen in that country, and they immediately attracted the attention of everybody. But when they opened their mouths, and began to sing the words of a war song, the sentinels forgot everything, and deserted their posts to get as near the wonderful songsters as possible without alarming them.
Now was the time to slip into the castle easily. But the whole plan had liked to have miscarried through a circumstance unforeseen by the fairies who had contrived it. Christern was fully as much delighted and astonished with the magical cocks, as the sentinels; and was on the point of rushing off with the men, when the fairy, fortunately, perceived his intention, and, darting out of the postern door, which was open, he pulled Christern’s hair so vigorously that the old man was reminded of his duty, and felt heartily ashamed that he had, for a moment, forgotten his dear young master.
The fairy conducted Christern, at once, to Maghar’s room. He had found out where the key of the door was kept, and Christern unlocked it. Maghar was lying on a bed of straw in a corner of a stone cell. He looked sick with despair. He did not move when the door opened, but, as soon as he heard Christern’s voice, he sprang up instantly. His pale face flushed, his dulled eyes brightened, and, from that moment, he was filled again with life, hope, and vigor.
The method of escape planned by the fairies was a desperate one. This was the reason the fairy had taken care to disappear before Sybil could ask him what it was. He knew she would think it impossible. But the fairies had full faith in its success, if only Maghar would have the nerve and the courage to go through his part.
At certain hours sentinels went the rounds of the castle rooms to see that all was right. The fairy knew this, and had planned this visit just after the morning round. These sentinels had rather a monotonous life, and were glad enough sometimes, especially of an evening, to stop awhile and have a chat with a prisoner who could tell them as much as Maghar; consequently he was to take occasion at the next visit of the sentinels to invite conversation; to skilfully introduce the subject of horseback riding; to boast of his own powers in this line; and to declare that if he had a horse he knew of at his old home, he could make the leap from the top of the tower across the chasm, and land safely on the opposite side on the hill that he could see from his window. The sentinels would not credit this, but would talk of it in the court-yard, and, finally, it would reach the ears of the governor of the castle and his officers. Their curiosity would be aroused to see if he would really have the courage to make the attempt. As for the successful accomplishment of such a leap, they would consider it impossible. The young knight would be dashed to pieces at the foot of the tower. But it would be a good way to get rid of him. They could let it be known that he had perished through his own fool-hardiness. They would give him permission to make the leap, and ask where the horse was to be found. Maghar was to direct them to the cave of the magician, taking care not to let them know that he was anything more than a simple hermit. The magician would have a horse ready—one that he had endowed with such magical powers that it would make the leap with ease. And besides myriads of fairies would be hovering around, invisible to all eyes except Maghar’s, and these would help to keep up his courage. As for getting the horse up the castle stairs that was easily managed. Maghar had only to play an air on the flute, and the horse would follow him up stairs or down.
This was the plan of the fairies. Christern was appalled when he heard it. But Maghar embraced it at once. It was better, he told Christern, to be dashed to pieces at the bottom of the abyss than to suffer the slow torture of starvation.
The old man and the fairy, being in fear of discovery, made the interview as short as possible. They returned to the postern door, the fairy went outside through the loop-hole, gave his signal, and again the wonderful cocks appeared on the hill. This time they sang a merry song, and kept time to the music with their feet. Again the sentinels were charmed into deserting their posts, and Christern and the fairy got safely away.
Maghar had his talk with the guards, and, by the next afternoon, everybody in the castle, from the governor to the stable boys, had heard of his great boast about the leap. Everything turned out just as the fairy had said. The governor, and his officers, glad to have some sport, proposed to Maghar that he should make good his boast. They felt certain he would be killed, and in that way they would happily be rid of him. But they did not tell him this. He agreed to the proposition, without manifesting any eagerness, but stipulated that he should have food, and drink to strengthen him, and that his sword and armor should be restored to him. These requests were granted. It was no longer necessary to starve him as he was to be killed another way.
The good magician had the horse ready for the messengers. The animal knew exactly what was expected of him; and, when Maghar was led down by his guards to the yard to see the steed, it rubbed its head against his shoulders as if glad to see him, which action convinced the spectators that the two were old acquaintances, whereas they had never seen each other until that moment.
It was a powerfully-built horse, of a roan color, with bright, intelligent eyes, and a flowing mane, and tail of pure white. Everybody admired it, and the next day the battlements of the castle were crowded with people to witness the daring feat of horsemanship. The top of the northern tower was left clear for the horse and rider. The top of the southern tower was reserved for the governor, and his officers.
These remained below, at first, to witness the ascent of the stairs, which, in itself, was a remarkable thing for a horse to do. Maghar walked up the stairs playing an inspiriting air on the flute, and the horse followed him readily but slowly up the long and winding ascent, to the very top of the northern tower.
“THE HORSE STUMBLED ON THE NARROW BATTLEMENT.”
The great personages then took their places on the other tower, and Maghar got upon the back of the horse.
Up to this moment he had been perfectly cool and self-possessed; but now, as he looked across the yawning chasm, forty feet wide, at the wall of the precipice opposite, a spasm of fear came over him. He did not see the cloud of fairies about him. His hand trembled, and he held the bridle so unsteadily that the horse stumbled on the narrow battlement. The stones of the old tower were loose, and several large ones went down into the abyss with a thundering sound, frightful to hear. One of the hind feet of the horse slipped over the edge of the wall, turning Maghar a little in the saddle, so that he looked down into the awful abyss.
At this sight he made a superhuman exertion to right himself in the saddle, and, by this violent impetus he threw the horse over so much to the opposite side that it was able to regain its foothold on the tower. Perhaps, too, the fairies helped it a little. Maghar saw these friendly little people now, and the sight gave him new courage.
The horse stepped carefully to the unbroken side of the tower. Maghar saw that the horse was standing firmly; and, then without allowing a moment for reflection, he urged the noble beast to the leap.
It sprang frantically into the air; or so it seemed to the spectators. But really it was not frantic at all, but a steady, powerful impetus that carried it clear across the great chasm.
Horse and rider landed safely on the opposite bank! Enemies and infidels though they were, the spectators cheered and shouted in admiration of this wonderful feat of horsemanship!
Maghar dismounted for a few moments, taking care to put the cover of a thick copse between himself and any arrow shots that might be sent after him. He wished to compose his own nerves, for they had been terribly shaken. But he soon mounted again, and was off like the wind.
He was not pursued. The infidels knew it to be useless, for he had a level country before him, and they must toil over rough ground, and high hills to reach his starting-place. And perhaps, too, they thought he had shown such courage and skill that he deserved his freedom.
For they never knew anything about the magical powers of the horse; and, though the infidels were long ago driven out of the country, and the old castle is a heap of ruins, the story of the wonderful leap of the knight Maghar is still related in the neighborhood.