“I must find me a loom,” said faithful Fidella, “and weave upon it a wedding gift so worthy that the lords of the castle will suffer me to go with it to Alois.”
And she sought out a house and a loom in a village by the city, and paid for them with a penny of gold. And from one neighbor she had silver yarn; and from another, blue; and from others, all the colors of the world.
Fidella knelt at the edge of the pool, and filled her golden cup with the waters of memory
And now Fidella began to weave a fair tapestry picture of the story she had lived, beginning the tale with the golden light in the wood and the coming of Alois to the glade. Thread by thread, inch by inch, the grass-palace of Airda grew on the loom, the cave of the talking waters, the giant ship with its masts above the clouds, and the fountain of memory in the wood beyond the world. The sun set behind the high towers of the city, and still Fidella labored at the loom; candles melted low, and still the sound of the weaving hummed upon the air.
In the dark of the second night, as Fidella rose to toss a brand upon the fire, she heard, through the quiet of the room, the distant beat of galloping hoofs and the thundering rumble of a coach. Louder and louder grew the sound, and presently there passed the maiden’s dwelling a huge coach speeding from the city. Strange to tell, its lanterns were unlit and its curtains closely drawn.
“Perchance some noble guest hath been summoned posthaste to his realm,” thought Fidella.
And now it was the morn, the marriage morn of the Knight Alois and the Princess Melusine. Alas, still unfinished was the picture tapestry! Fearing to risk a single moment more, however, the maiden unbound the picture from the loom and, carrying the gift and her golden cup, joined the merrymakers thronging to the city. The streets were already full of soldiers in gayest uniforms, strolling musicians, young nobles, larking pages, good countryfolk, and sober burgesses in velvet gowns. Those who brought gifts for Alois and Melusine were faring into the castle through the eastern gate.
The bells of the castle were ringing as they never rang before.
Fidella approached to the portal with her gift. A haughty chamberlain, with a silver chain about his shoulders, stood there by the thresh-hold and suffered only those to enter in whom he thought well worthy of the boon.