Old Court Life in Spain, vol. 1/2

by Frances Minto Dickinson Elliot

One of these maidens, Zora, by name, who came from Barbary with Egilona, is of a darker colouring than the rest. Zora can sing to the cither and relate stories like a true Arab as she is. Now a circle of her companions gather about her, and beg her to tell them a tale.

“But you have heard all my stories so often,” pleads poor Zora, whose little feet are tingling with the desire of movement after the confinement of the long hot day.

“Never mind, you must invent a new one, Zora.” A cloud passes over her merry face. “Invent a story! Well, I will try,” and after a few minutes she seats herself on a porcelain bench under a clump of cedars, and begins.

Zora’s Story

“There were once three sisters, I don’t know where, but they were princesses. They had an ugly old father with one eye, who shut them up in a tower high in a wall. They were never to go out, and had an old slave to watch them; her name was Wenza, and there was a eunuch too, who carried a scimitar; but he does not matter, for he stayed out of doors.

“Now the tower was very beautiful, only the sisters did not like it, because they called it a prison. There was a patio with an alabaster fountain, which kept up a running murmur day and night; the walls were wrought in a coloured net-work of flowers, and arches and angles were worked beautifully to look like crystal caves. All around were the sweetest little rooms for the sisters to sleep in, not forgetting Wenza, who, they said, snored, so she was put in the farthest one. The walls were hung with golden tapestry, and the divans worked with shells and stones. So beautiful! Like a casket! There were curtains with monsters and beasts embroidered in fine silk, hung at the doors to keep out draughts, and so many singing-birds in golden cages, that there were times when they could not hear themselves speak. A little kitchen, too, lay in a corner, where Wenza cooked the food, but the sisters lived on cakes and fruit quite in a fairy-like way, which often made Wenza say she knew she would be starved, only the eunuch was kind and sometimes handed in on his scimitar a piece of meat. High up in the walls were barred casemates, but oh! so small, mere slits and the princesses often tore their robes clambering up to look out. They could see the sky—a passing cloud was a variety, but what delighted them most, and, indeed, occupied the day, when they were not playing on lutes and cithers, or teaching tricks to the birds, was a rocky valley, oh! so deep down! They could just see it. The sun never shone there, and the rocks looked always damp. A valley, and a stream with a strange echo like voices, only what it said was past their power to know; and Wenza could not help them, she only pulled them down from the windows and scolded them, and threatened she would call in the eunuch with his drawn sword. But Wenza liked to hear about it all the same, and asked often if the voices of the stream had spoken more plainly.

“The only one who minded what Wenza said was the youngest princess, Zeda. She was much more timid than her sisters, with cheeks as white as a lily. She could touch the stops of a silver lute and sing Moorish ballads. She was so gentle; she would nurse a sick bird in her warm hand for hours and hours, and feed the little starlings that settled on the window edge. All day she was in and out about the flowers, which stood in pots round the fountain and lived on the spray.

“Zoda, the second, was very vain, and looked at herself in a steel mirror twenty times a day, painting her eyes and trimming her hair, and Lindaxara, the eldest, was proud, and would sometimes beat poor gentle Zeda when she offended her.”

“And their clothes?” asked a little Gothic maiden interrupting her, “you have told us nothing of their clothes.”

“Ah! that is true,” and Zora paused and thought a little. “Well! they were all in tunics of white satin with gemmed waistbands and borders, and trousers of Broussa gauze, lined with rose colour, little caps upon their heads twinkling with coins, and necklaces of pearl. Very lovely clothes, I assure you, and they looked lovely, too, standing with the spray of the fountain behind them.