Legends from River & Mountain

by Carmen Sylva; Alma Strettell

One might suppose that the whole country-side would have risen in arms against this hateful tyrant. But her dread power of working spells and her authority as lady of all the surrounding lands made the people afraid to rebel. At last they could bear it no longer, however, and they determined to form a strong band, and march against the castle, with their priest at their head, carrying a crucifix, to be their defence against the spells and curses of the witch. When the little army reached the castle they found the great gates closed, the drawbridge up, and the walls manned by a host of grinning dwarfs, more like apes than men, who swarmed about the battlements with threatening gestures. This sight struck terror to the hearts of the rescuers, but the priest encouraged them by the assurance that, if every man did but cross himself faithfully, there could no danger befall him from any of these fiendish apparitions. However, as the castle could not be surprised, they determined to surround and keep watch about it that night, till they could bring ladders and storm it on the following day. So sentry-fires were lighted, and preparations made for a camp, but not one of the besiegers could get to sleep that night. And behold! at midnight, as they sat round their fires, watching the dark, silent fortress with anxious eyes, they saw three tongues of blue flame shoot up from the topmost tower, and suddenly there appeared upon it the Lady of the Castle, her witch’s staff in her hand. Her tall form, veiled in black, stood out in dusky outline against the lurid blue light; and as she stood there, she waved her wand towards the four corners of heaven, and uttered some words in an unknown tongue. Immediately the ground trembled, the light of the stars was darkened, a fearful roar and turmoil were heard, and with a rending sound, as though the earth were opening beneath it, the great castle was torn from its foundations and carried by an invisible hand through the air, till it reached the top of a neighbouring mountain, where it settled like some monster bird. But as it went the voice of the witch was heard crying aloud: “If ye dare to disturb me again in my dwelling, I will take your houses too, and carry them through the air, as I do this my castle—but into the lake yonder will I cast them down.” The terror-stricken besiegers hardly dared follow the flight of the castle with their eyes, but there it was the next morning, and for many days to come, standing upon the mountain far above them.

Now there was no more question of rescuing the maidens by force, and no one, you may be sure, ever set foot on that mountain if he could help it. But the witch’s servants still haunted the woodland paths, and bore off many a hapless girl into a captivity, which now seemed more terrible than ever, far away on yon lonely hill-top.

But as the years went on, there grew up in the village a brave and pious maiden whom her parents had dedicated from childhood to the holy St. Anthony, the patron saint of the family. For it was good, they thought, to be under the protection of a saint, when there was so much evil dwelling near at hand, and so much danger to be feared. The maiden was named Antonia, and got her living as a shepherdess. This often led her into lonely places among the woods and meadows at the foot of the dreaded mountain, but she was never afraid, and always escaped being caught, though many a maid she knew was taken almost from her side. Sometimes she would even lead her sheep up the slopes of the mountain itself, for every one shunned those pastures, so that they were rich and untrodden. And as she got nearer to the castle, and looked up at its dark, frowning walls, she mused more and more upon the poor creatures shut up within it, and how they might be helped to escape. At last the matter got such hold upon her mind that she dreamed of it at night, and her dreams took clearer and clearer shape, until this is what she dreamed. She saw a garden filled with shrubs and flowers, such as she had never known before; dark walls closed it in on every side, but within all was bright and blooming. Yet there was a taint in the scent of the blossoms, and an unwholesome heaviness filled the air. She herself lay upon a mossy bank, and above her hung boughs covered with trails of purple blossom. She tried to reach them, but could not move a limb. Then a dreadful sense of terror came over her, and she called aloud upon St. Anthony, and at once the heavy air cleared, and the weight was lifted from her limbs; and as she rose, cheerful and glad once more, a voice sounded among the trees: “From within the castle help must come—from within.”

The sound of the voice woke her, and there she lay in her own bed at home, and wondered. “From within.” Did that mean that she must give herself up into captivity? The more she thought of it, the more she was sure it must be so; but she dared ask counsel of no one, for she knew her parents would never consent to her casting herself into the lion’s jaws.

And there was one other, too, in the village, who would never suffer it either. She thought of him, and sighed; yet now she thought far oftener of her captive sisters even than of him, and his glance and his smile made her sad instead of merry.

The day came—she had felt it coming for long—when she could resist the call no more: the dark walls of the castle drew her as by an irresistible fascination; and when it was time to lead her sheep homeward at evening, she gave them into the charge of another maiden who was going that way, and saying she had lost her staff upon the hill and must turn back to seek it, she sprang up the mountain-slopes.

To her surprise, no one spoke to her, no armed figures dashed out from among the bushes to seize her, but she was allowed to go on unharmed, right up to the castle. She had never been so far before, and when she reached the great gates, they looked so dark and frowning in the twilight, and the whole place so still and lonely, that for the first time her heart sank, and she almost turned back. But just then the vesper-bell sounded from the valley below, and it seemed to put heart into her, and to remind her that her saintly protector was just as near as in the valley. She advanced towards the gate, and was raising her staff to knock upon it, when it opened silently, and in the dusky porch she saw a tall figure, veiled in black, and holding a golden key. It beckoned to her, and with a beating heart Antonia entered, and heard the great door swing to behind her.

For the first time her heart sank, and she almost turned back.