The windfairies, and other tales

by Mary De Morgan

“Your Majesty, I lived in a little windmill by the sea when I was a child, far from teachers or dancers, but I watched the windmill sails go round, morn, noon, and night; and perhaps it is that that taught me to dance as I do now. And if your Majesty wishes to learn to do what I do, I will gladly teach you all I know, and doubtless you will soon learn to dance far better than I.”

Upon this the Queen was delighted, and flung aside her cloak, and stood opposite to Lucilla, and begged her to begin to teach her at once, that she might learn as soon as possible. All that evening they danced, but when the Queen thought she looked just as Lucilla did, she appeared to be quite awkward and heavy beside her, and was dancing just as other mortals might. When she went away she was very much pleased, and said that she would come twice more to learn from her, and then she was sure that she would be perfect. In her heart Lucilla was very much frightened, because she knew that the Queen did not dance as she did, and never could. However, the next night she came again, and the next again, and then there was to be a grand court ball; and at this the Queen thought she would first show her husband how she could dance. The King himself was fond of dancing, and danced well, although not half so well as Lucilla’s husband the sailor; and the Queen thought how delighted he would be when he saw what a graceful wife he had got. As the ball began, all the fine people were saying to each other, it really seemed silly to dance after they had seen the wonderful new dancer, but the Queen smiled and thought to herself, “Now they will see that I can do quite as well as she.” When her turn came she tripped lightly forward and danced as best she could, and thought it was just like Lucilla, and the courtiers said among each other, “Our new Queen dances well,” but no one thought of saying that it was like Lucilla’s dancing, and the King said nothing at all on the matter; therefore the Queen felt herself growing hot and angry, and she turned red and white by turns.

“That lying wench has been tricking me,” she said to herself, “and she has not taught me right at all; but I will punish her for her deception, and soon she shall know what it is to deceive a Queen.”

So the next day she went to her husband and said, “Husband, I have thought much of the new wonderful dancer whom we all admire so much, and truly I have never seen any one on earth who could dance as she can; but now I think we should do well before she goes back to her own home to know who has taught her her marvellous art, so that we may have our court dancers taught, that they may be there to please us when she is gone, for really there is nothing on earth that cannot be learnt if it is taught in the right way.”

The King agreed, and they sent for Lucilla, and the King asked her to tell him where she had learnt her dancing, that they might summon the same teachers to teach their court dancers. But Lucilla answered as before—she did not know—she thought she must have learnt dancing from watching the windmill sails going round. At this the King became angry, and said, “That is nonsense, no one could learn dancing from looking at windmill sails, neither was it possible that she, a poor miller’s daughter, could have learnt such dancing by nature;” then he threatened her, that if she would not tell him the truth he should be obliged to punish her, and he said she should have a day to think of it in, but at the end of the next day, he should expect her to tell him everything he wanted to know quite plainly.

When she was gone away the King said to the Queen, “Wife, if this dancer persists in her silence, and will not tell us how she has learnt, there is another thing which we must do. We must keep her here to dance for us as much as we choose, and not let her return at all to the home from which she came.”

The Queen was silent for a little, but she felt very jealous at the thought of the dancer remaining at the court, so she nodded her head and said, “Yes, but I think she ought to tell us more about it; for myself, I begin to think that it is witchcraft, and perhaps she has been taught by the Evil One, and then we shouldn’t like her to remain here and dance to us however beautiful it be, for who knows what ill luck it might not bring upon us?” Upon this the King looked grave, and said he did not believe much in ill luck or good luck, but he should be loth to lose the dancer, so they had better settle to keep her if she declined to tell them how the other dancers were to be taught.

Meantime Lucilla went back to her little house, and wept bitterly. “Would that I had never left my babes and my home,” she cried, “for I cannot break my word to the windfairies, and if I did they might do some terrible harm to my little ones or to my husband at sea; yet if I refuse to tell them they will most likely put me into prison, and there I shall remain for my life, and my husband and children will never know what has become of me.” And she knelt down before the windows and lifted her arms and cried out, “Oh, dear windfairies, I have not broken faith with you, so don’t break faith with me, and come to my help and save me in my trouble.”

Next evening Lucilla went again before the King, and he said to her, “Well, now will you tell us what we asked you last night, so that we may send for your teachers, and have others taught to dance as you do?”

“My gracious liege,” answered Lucilla, “I can tell you nothing that I have not told you before. Since I was a child I have danced as I dance now, and I watched the sails of my father’s windmill, and I danced in time to the waves, and perhaps that is what taught me to keep time and step so well. I was dancing by the sea-shore when the travellers who brought me here found me, and they promised me a bag of gold to take home to my husband if I would come and dance at your Majesty’s court; and now you have seen me dance, and I have done all I can do, so I entreat you to give me the bag of gold, and let me go home again.”