Over hill, over dale, bumping through puddle-holes, and tossing and swaying crazily from side to side, rolled the coach in which Fidella sat a prisoner. A rushing scurrying wind was flowing over the sunny world, shaking the manes of the galloping horses, rippling the roadside pools, and worrying the little birds who had just begun to fly. Presently Fidella found herself on a lonely moor, watching the coach fare homeward into the wind-streaked splendor of the west.
And now began the wayfaring of Fidella in quest of Alois, for the King had forbidden the maid to return again into her own land. Down the highway of the Golden Plain she fared and beheld the grain tossing about her like a sea; through the silence of the Adamants she passed, and on into the Kingdom by the peaks; yet never a word of Alois brought joy to her ear.
Now it fortuned on a spring morning, as Fidella wandered in a pleasant land of wooded hills and little singing brooks, she came to the strangest palace that was ever to be seen. Of earth o’ergrown with grass were its mighty walls and lofty battlements; flowers grew in the crannies; blossoming vines swayed from its heights; and, when the maiden peered within, she beheld there a woodsy hall, whose giant columns were the trunks of living trees. At the far end of the hall, on a throne of living wood, sat a dark and stately queen. Twelve maidens stood beside her, three robed in summer scarlet, three in winter white, three in springtide emerald, and three in russet gold.
The lady of the palace was Airda, the great Earth Queen. Four sons had she, and each son was master of a season of the year.
“My faithful Fidella,” said the Earth Queen, when she had heard the maiden’s story, “be of good cheer, for all that hath been hid from you shall now be known. An enchanted torrent through my palace flows; its waters possess the gift of speech, and to every mystery it hath a secret key. Follow, Fidella, to the grotto of the stream.”
Now rose the Earth Queen from her throne and led the way through the cool sweet-smelling chambers of the palace to a strange dark grotto, half cave, half vine-hung hall. At the darker end of the leafy cave a lovely waterfall, whose torrent was full of a pale mysterious light, was leaping from some height overhead into a chasm so profound that only the faintest watery murmur rose in whispers from below. Kneeling upon the brink of the chasm, Fidella gazed down into the palely glowing depths of the abyss and asked of Alois and his fate.
For a moment or two, the waters far below seemed to gather themselves into a faint echoing roar, which slowly ebbed to a whisper; and presently this whisper became a voice, and dissolved into delicate and silvery words. And the voice of the enchanted chasm told Fidella of Alois’ true faith, of the enchanter and the water of forgetfulness, and of the youth’s journey to the court of the Kingdom of the Fields.
“Ah, me! Is there no way in which the spell may be broken?” said Fidella.
“In the wood beyond the world,” answered the torrent, “under trees which are older than the stars, the fountain of memory pours its crystal stream. If the youth shall drink a golden goblet of this water, the chain of the spell will break.” And the silvery voice grew faint, and died away.
And now Airda, the Earth Queen, gave the maiden a fair golden goblet with a golden cover, and bade her sail upon the giant ship of the earth to the wood beyond the world.