Chapter III: Part 3

The Knight of London, however, was seated in his saddle as firmly as if he were part of it; and as there seemed nothing else to do, he commanded his heralds to challenge any one who should wish to dispute his right to the victory. But no one came out, for either there was no one else left, or else the knights were afraid to enter the lists against one who had overthrown so easily so doughty a knight as the Prince of India. However that might be, no one turned up, so the Knight of London was declared the victor. The shout that was raised at this declaration was not very tremendous, for most of the people liked the Prince of India, whereas they did not care much for the new-comer. But he did not seem to mind it much, and he went smilingly to the Princess. As he came before the royal presence he made his horse kneel, and advance kneeling, till he was quite close.

Then he said:

‘As no one appears to dispute my right I believe I am the victor, and in virtue of that right I claim your Majesty’s hand.’

But the Princess laughed.

‘Oh, we’ll see about that to-morrow; there’ll be plenty of time then. Meanwhile, this evening we are going to give a ball at the palace, to which all who have taken part in the tournament are invited. Of course you’ll come, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will, at your invitation, your Majesty, but——’

What he was going to say was drowned in an immoderate fit of laughter, which came from the Prince of India.

‘Ha! ha! ha!’ he laughed. ‘Can’t you see who it is you’re talking to?’ he continued, talking to the Princess.

The Princess drew herself up.

‘I believe I am talking to the Knight of London,’ she said severely.

‘The Knight of London! why he’s no more the Knight of London than I am. Why, your Majesty must be blind or mad, or both, not to see who he is. Blind’s not enough to express it. You——’

But he got no farther, for the Princess called for the police to arrest him, but before they could get at him he had fainted; for the spear of the Knight of London had gone right through his side. So the Princess told the police to lift him up gently and to carry him to his house in the town.

But the Knight of London frowned:

‘If I were you, your Majesty, I should order them to cut his head off on the first opportunity. To call you mad and blind—why I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

But the Princess said:

‘That would never do. Why, he is an independent prince, and if I hurt him it would bring on a war with India, and goodness knows what else. However, I’ll have him turned out of the kingdom as soon as he is well enough to go. However, I am going back now. Mind and be in time this evening.’

So he went to doff his armour, and she drove home once more—this time without the poor Prince, who was being carried behind in an ambulance waggon. The rest of the day passed off somehow, and the night came at last, as nights are in the habit of doing, and with the night came knights—no longer dressed in steel armour, but gorgeous in velvet and silk and evening dress. But, however gorgeous and fine they might be, the Knight of London outstripped them all, in dress, manners, looks, and everything else, and the Princess said he had the best step of any one she had ever known—and she ought to know, for she danced with him a great many times. In fact, by the end of the ball she had forgotten all about the poor Prince, for the Knight of London was a most enchanting person—although one thing did seem strange, and that was, that the Knight seemed positively afraid of the Owl; and at supper-time he actually refused to sit on the right hand of the Princess because the Owl was sitting on her right shoulder.

But the Owl took no notice of him at all, and never even looked at him, so she thought it was only a rather foolish prejudice on his part. However, the ball came to an end at last, and the Princess went to bed and dreamt pleasantly of some one, but it was not the Prince this time.

And the Prince lay tossing on his bed only half dreaming, and not pleasantly, of some one, and it _was_ the Princess. As for the Knight of London, nobody knows what he dreamt about; and, to tell the truth, nobody cared. But the Owl sat at the head of the Princess’s bed, and slept calmly,—he did not dream; owls are not in the habit of dreaming—they are a good deal wiser.

When the next morning came, the Knight of London came with it, and he wanted to know when the Princess would marry him; but the Princess put him off—for somehow, although she liked him very much, she did not altogether relish the idea of marrying so soon. So she told him that he must wait until the Lords of the Council had given their consent, and they were not going to meet till the next day, so he would have to wait till then. But the Knight did not like this at all.

‘At all events, my dear Princess,’ he said, ‘you might promise to marry me, for, after all, I did win the tournament, you see, and so——’

But the Princess put her hand to her chin and rubbed it softly as if she were thinking very deeply—and no doubt she was—and shook her head emphatically.

‘No; I can’t promise until the Council have given their consent, for you see that would be unconstitutional, and I can’t be that even for you.’

The Knight seemed quite angry.

‘Bother the unconstitutionality,’ he said; ‘what does the stupid old Council want to blunder into such matters?’

But the Princess stopped him:

‘Oh, you mustn’t say that—please don’t say that,’ she said; ‘it’s not a stupid old Council, it’s a very nice old Council, and it’s much nicer than you are. When you get angry like that you’re not at all nice—so just be quiet; now do.’

And he had to be quiet, for he was afraid of making her really angry.

She too was afraid she had hurt his feelings by telling him to be quiet. So she asked him to join the hunt that was preparing outside, and he of course accepted her invitation, for you see he was only too glad to make it up. They rode out of the town, and soon a deer was started, and the chase swept through the tall trees after it over the thick carpet of fallen leaves and between the trunks of the beech-trees. As a rule the Princess’s horse was swifter than any of the deer they started, but this one seemed an exception to the rule, for it went on at just the rate she did, keeping always at the same speed whether she pulled her horse in or let it go at the top of its speed. The Princess was quite annoyed at this. Gradually she passed all the knights and huntsmen who were labouring forward at full gallop, and then she came up with the hoarse-tongued hounds, who were running steadily along with their noses close to the ground. And then she passed them too, and their deep mouthing sounded behind, and gradually the shouts of the huntsmen and the cries of the dogs and all the sounds of the chase died away behind, and still the deer kept steadily forward. Just at this time she noticed the heavy gallop of a horse behind her, and looking round she saw the Knight of London cantering easily behind. So she slackened her speed a little to let him come up, and then she stopped to let the rest of the chase come up with her; and when she stopped the deer stopped too, and nibbled quietly at a flower that was growing at the foot of a tree.

By this time the Knight had come up with her, and she said:

‘So here you are. What an annoying thing that deer is—I can’t catch it up, do whatever I may, and my horse used to be thought the fastest in the world, except one,’ she added, after a moment.

‘That is strange,’ said the Knight. ‘I used always to think mine the fastest in the world, and indeed, your Majesty, I think it is quite as fast as yours.’

‘I do believe it is,’ she said. ‘It’s most annoying; every second person I see now has a horse as fast as mine. However, we’ll try a race as soon as the rest have caught us up.’

Just at that moment a hound’s bay came from close behind them, and the deer started off again.

‘There it goes,’ said the Princess; and again she started off, and the Knight kept close beside her. They went faster than ever, and she could hardly breathe because of the wind, but the Knight kept steadily by her side, and would not be out-distanced. Just at this moment she happened to look upwards, and there was the Owl sailing quietly along just over her head, flapping his wings lazily as if there were no need for exertion, although they were going at such a rate that the Princess could hardly keep her eyes open—just as when you put your head out of the window of a railway train that is going pretty fast—a thing, by the bye, that it is to be hoped you never do, or you might get your nose chopped off against a post. When she looked down from the Owl, to her surprise the deer had vanished altogether, and although she rubbed her eyes she could not see it anywhere; and although they galloped still farther on, no deer made its appearance, and the forest had become dark and thick and she had never been there before. So she drew her horse in so suddenly that its hoofs threw up the copper-coloured beech-leaves in showers, and the Knight shot some distance in advance. However, he turned and came back. So the Princess said:

‘What are we to do now?’

‘Go back, I suppose,’ he answered.

‘But I don’t know the way,’ she said, ‘and we are near the country of the Magi, and they’re the most frightful creatures, who would tear us up and eat us if they knew where to find us.’

The Knight smiled:

‘I could save you from them,’ he said.

But the Princess said reflectively:

‘I don’t know so much about that, for you see they’re very strong—and how dark it’s getting; it must be past five, and it will soon be night.’

I daresay if she had been alone she would have had a good cry, but that wouldn’t do before strangers.

It was still getting darker and she began to feel very uncomfortable, for the howl of a wolf came down on the breeze, and a squirrel that had been searching for nuts darted home to its hole, scuttling along as fast as it could.

So she said:

‘Come, let us be quick and get away.’

‘Promise to marry me first.’

But she only said:

‘Oh, I’ll see about that when we’re safe—so do come.’

What the Knight would have answered was never known, for just then the Owl, who was seated on her shoulder, gave a mournful ‘Tu-whoo,’ at which the horse of the Knight jumped back nearly ten feet and almost threw him with the unexpected shock. But before she could do anything a hunter burst from the bushes near at hand and said:

‘Hurry, Princess, hurry; the Magi have heard of your whereabouts, and they are coming at full speed here. Come, be quick.’

But the Princess said:

‘But what will you do, old man? for you have no horse.’

But he smiled contemptuously.

‘Horse! I don’t want a horse—why, I can run as well as any deer. Come, come.’

And he caught the bridle of her horse and away they went, and for the moment she forgot all about the Knight, for from behind came the sound of crashing branches, and she knew that the Magi were following them. But the old hunter ran in front of the horse, tugging at the bridle-rein, and shouting to her to go faster, so she leant forward and whispered in her horse’s ear, and it stretched forward with such speed that it outsped the wind. Gradually the sounds behind began to get less and less, and the wood began to get lighter, and at last they jumped a little brook, and were at the end of the forest in a smooth meadow. Here the old man stopped.

‘You are safe now,’ he said. And she drew a sigh of relief.

‘At last!’ she said; ‘but how can I reward you, my preserver? Would you like a lock of my hair, or a purse full of gold, or a——? well that wouldn’t do—you see I can’t well offer to marry you, though that’s what princesses generally do to their preservers. You’d better choose something for yourself. I will grant it, whatever it is.’

But the old man shook his head.

‘I want no reward, your Majesty; I only did my duty. I couldn’t have done less. See, here come some of the hunters whom you left behind.’

And just then several of them came up, and when they saw her they shouted and blew their horns to let the others know that the Princess was found. But the huntsman said:

‘Good-day, your Majesty. I must go.’

‘But you haven’t got your reward yet.’

But he shook his head.

‘I want no reward,’ he said; and before the Princess could say any more he stepped into the forest and was seen no more; so she turned her horse towards the town.

On her way she met the head huntsman, so she drew rein and said:

‘Why did you not follow on the scent of the deer?’

‘It lay so thinly, your Majesty, that the dogs could not follow, and they soon gave in.’

‘But you should have followed me, at any rate.’

‘Ah, your Majesty, we might as well have tried to prove the moon was made of green cheese. Besides, your Majesty had one cavalier; and sometimes two’s company and three’s none.’

Just at this moment the Princess remembered the Knight.

‘Good gracious!’ she said, ‘what has become of the Knight—have none of you seen him?’

But none of them had, and although the question went far and wide no news came of him, nor could he be seen anywhere.

‘He must have been caught by the Magi—if so, he will have been devoured to a certainty! Poor Knight!’

The chief huntsman seemed excited:

‘Your Majesty has not been near the country of the Magi surely?’ he said.

‘I was almost too near, and the poor Knight has probably been torn to pieces in trying to drive them back.’

‘Your Majesty should be thankful that knights are so faithful,’ said the chief huntsman; ‘but perhaps, after all, he has escaped by a different path.’

But the Princess sighed:

‘I am afraid not,’ she said.

However, she rode on to the town to consult Lord Licec as to what had better be done. But when she got there she found that he was out of town and would not be back till next morning. So the poor Princess had to go back home and wait—but she looked so pale that her ladies-in-waiting insisted on sending for the doctor. He came in a hurry, and asked her of course what was the matter, and when she told him he shook his head.

‘I’m afraid he’s got rather a poor chance, for these Magi haven’t had a good meal of one of your Majesty’s subjects for nearly three weeks, and they were uncommonly hungry. But if your Majesty will allow me to feel your pulse, I——’

So she gave him her hand, and he took out his watch and began to count. ‘One, two, three, four’; but just then he looked up and saw the Owl sitting on the Princess’s shoulder, and his hand trembled so much that he dropped his watch, and it smashed to atoms on the floor.

‘Oh dear, there goes ten and sixpence,’ he groaned; ‘and I shan’t be able to get another for ever so long. D’you know, your Majesty, I think you are somewhat feverish; and you had better go to bed. And meanwhile, the Owl is too exciting for you; if you could let it be put in a cellar and let it have nothing to eat for, say, three weeks, perhaps it might not be so fiery after that.’

The Princess smiled:

‘Perhaps you would like to take him there yourself,’ she said.

But the doctor said:

‘Good gracious! no. I think he’s perfectly capable of taking himself without any assistance. D’you know, your Majesty, I’ve got a very pressing case outside; and if you will excuse me I will retire.’

And he retired so quickly that he left his umbrella behind him—for you see he was very frightened of the Owl.

Acting on his advice the Princess went to bed, and dismissed her ladies-in-waiting and told them not to come to the room again until she called for them.

And then she lay with her hand under her head thinking of nothing in particular, and the Owl sat on the top of the canopy over her bed.

Suddenly she heaved a deep sigh.

‘I wish I knew what had become of him,’ she thought to herself.

‘You wouldn’t like it if you did know,’ said a strange cracked voice that seemed to come from nowhere in particular. She started up and looked all round the room, but there was no one to be seen; so she thought it was all imagination, and lay down again. And again she thought to herself, ‘How I should like to be with him.’

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ said the voice.

This time she was sure it came from the Owl, so she asked quite softly, ‘Did you say that, cherished Owl?’

And the Owl answered:

‘I did.’

‘But I thought you could not speak, dear Owl.’

‘Well, you see, I can sometimes—when it’s necessary.’

‘But how did you know what I was thinking?—for I did not speak aloud.’

‘Ah! you see, Princess, I can’t tell you that—it’s quite enough for you that I can tell.’

‘But why do you say I should not like to see him?’

‘Because you wouldn’t.’

‘Why? Is he all torn to pieces by the Magi?’

‘Torn to pieces!—not he,’ laughed the Owl.

‘Oh! that is good news,’ said she quite joyfully. ‘Oh! do take me to him, dear Owl.’

‘Very well, Princess. But I warn you, you won’t be pleased with what you see.’ But the Princess was quite confident.

‘Oh yes, I shall, dear Owl—when shall we go?’

‘At once, if you like—the sooner the better.’

‘Oh! you dear Owl. I’ll go and get dressed at once.’

So she ran into her dressing-room and dressed herself in no time, without bothering to call up any of her ladies-in-waiting about it. Then she went back to the room where the Owl was waiting for her.

He was sitting on the floor near the fire, blinking quietly at the coals, and he did not at first notice her entry, so she said:

‘Well, good Owl, shall I send for the horse?’

‘What for?’ asked the Owl.

‘To ride on, I suppose!’ she answered.

‘Oh, that’s it, is it? That would never do. Just get on my back, and I’ll see if I can’t carry you somewhat faster than a horse could.’

So she got on his back, although she was rather afraid she would crush him altogether. But somehow, when she sat down, she sank deep into his warm feathers,—either she had grown small, or the Owl had grown very big all of a sudden. Without the least shock they passed through the wall, and out into the clear star-light.

‘Good Owl,’ said the Princess, ‘you won’t let me fall, will you?’ for, to tell the truth, she felt rather afraid on the whole; but the Owl answered:

‘No, of course not; you’re quite safe, only you’d better keep close to me, for we shall go pretty fast, and the wind will be sharp enough to cut your hair off.’

So she sat still, protected against the wind, and looking at the twinkling stars—for the Owl flew so high that he almost rubbed some of them out of their places.

The wind whistled loud in the wings of the Owl, but his flight was so regular that she almost fell asleep, and was quite happy—for you see she felt quite safe. Presently the straight flight of the Owl changed, and he began to circle round and round, and then they dropped quickly towards the earth, and the Owl stopped.

‘You can get off now,’ he said, and she stepped off his back.

‘Take care,’ he said next; and she rubbed her eyes in astonishment, for she found herself on the top of a roof.

‘I told you you wouldn’t like it if you came,’ he said. ‘But you’d better look down below if you want to see anything that’s going on,’ and he gravely seated himself on her shoulder, for he seemed quite small again. So the Princess looked down, and she saw at some distance below a large fire that was blazing in a sort of courtyard, and then she saw that it was the battlements of a castle on which they were standing. Presently a horrible-looking old witch came within the glow of the fire—she was an awful old creature too, and she almost made the Princess cry out from fright. She seated herself near the fire, and began to beat the ground angrily with the handle of a broom that she carried, and every now and then muttered as she did so:

‘How awfully late he is. Why don’t he come?’ and various other complaints of his lateness.

‘But who is he?’ asked the Princess of the Owl in a whisper.

‘Wait, and you’ll see,’ said the Owl.

Just then something peculiar happened down below—a couple of men appeared suddenly. They did not seem to come from anywhere in particular, but they were there all the same. The Princess almost screamed with astonishment, but she checked herself in time by stuffing a pocket-handkerchief into her mouth, for one of the men whom she saw was the Knight of London, and the other was Magog the King of the Magi; and the Knight of London did not seem to be on bad terms with the King of the Magi.

‘You’ve come at last,’ growled the old woman, in a voice something between the squeaking of a slate-pencil on a slate and the growling of a bear with a sore head.

‘I couldn’t come any sooner, mother,’ said the Knight of London soothingly; ‘you see I had to wait for her to promise to marry me.’

‘Well, has she promised?’ said the witch.

‘Not yet.’

‘Then why on earth not?’

‘She said she had to wait for the consent of the Council.’

‘Why didn’t you eat her?’ said Magog sleepily; and then, without waiting for an answer, he curled himself up close to the fire and went to sleep.

But the old witch went on:

‘Well, and what are your plans now?’

‘I’m going back to-morrow morning, and I’m going to take old Magog and pretend that he’s my prisoner of war, and then the stupid old Council will say I’ve done a service to the State, and they will give me the hand of the Princess for my pains.’

‘But supposing they don’t?’

‘Then I shall cut them all to pieces, and kill the Princess, and make myself king by force—for you see nothing can cut through my armour, except one thing.’

‘And what’s that?’ asked the witch.

‘Well, I don’t mind telling you, mother, because you won’t go and tell any one—it’s _Paper_!’

‘That’s a funny sort of thing to cut through armour.’

‘It may be funny,’ answered the Knight, ‘but it’s true all the same, and if the Prince of India had found it out I should not be where I am now; only he didn’t, you see.’

‘So much the worse for him,’ said the witch; ‘but is there nothing at all but paper that can cut through it?’

‘Well, there is one thing that can—the beak of the Owl, to wit.’

‘Tu—whoo!’ suddenly cried the Owl.

The effect of this sudden cry was tremendous. The Knight clung to his mother, and cried out in a piteous voice:

‘Oh, mother! mother! it’s the Owl; save me!’

‘How on earth can I save you if you hang on me like this?’ said his mother. ‘Just throw some more wood on, so that we can see this Owl, and I’ll fling my broom at it, and see if that won’t bring it down.’

But the Princess leant her head to the Owl, and said:

‘Dear Owl, let’s go. I’ve seen quite enough.’

And the Owl seemed to think the same, for he said:

‘All right. Just get on my back again, and we’ll go.’

So she did as she was told, and no sooner had she got on his back than she fell asleep, and remembered no more until she found herself lying on her bed with the early morning sun shining through the lattice.

She rubbed her eyes in astonishment, and it seemed as if it had been all a dream. But it all was so clear on her mind, and besides she had on her riding-clothes just as she had put them on to go with the Owl.

To make herself feel more sure she said to the Owl:

‘Good Owl, was it a dream?’

And the Owl shook his head, but although she asked him several times to speak she could not get the least word out of him, although he always shook his head if she asked him if it was a dream.

Just then a tremendous noise in the street made her run to the window, and there she saw the Knight of London coming up to the door, dragging the King of the Magi behind him in chains, and the people of the town were following him in an excited crowd, which caused all the noise, for they were naturally very glad to see their old enemy in chains.

The Knight rode straight up to the palace door, and when he saw the Princess at the window he smiled and said:

‘Good morning, your Majesty—you see I am returned.’

And the Princess said:

‘Good morning,’ as if she were very glad to see him, for she had not yet quite made up her mind about what she was going to do—for of course she could not marry him after what she had seen the night before. So she drew back from the window to think about it—for it would never do to try to get rid of him by force. At last she hit upon a plan—she had to think of it herself—for the Owl would tell her nothing.

She went to the door of her room, but there were no guards at the door—they had run down to see what the shouting was about. But just then the doctor came up the stairs:

‘Good morning, your Majesty,’ he said; ‘have you had a good night?’

‘A very good night, thank you, doctor. But that doesn’t matter just now. I want the Prince of India.’

‘I beg your pardon,’ said the doctor.

‘I say I want the Prince of India.’

‘The _who_?’ said the astonished doctor.

‘The Prince of India.’

‘Then I am afraid he can’t come. But if the Knight of London would do——’

‘But he won’t! I want the Prince of India at once.’

‘I fear your Majesty can’t have him at once. You _wouldn’t_ have him once, you know.’

‘But why not?’

‘Because at the present moment he isn’t well enough to move.’

‘Oh, good gracious!—but why is that?’

‘Well, your Majesty, if you’d been thrown from your horse with great violence, and had half a foot of spear stuck into you, besides being mortified at your overthrow, perhaps you would be rather unwell.’

‘Oh, poor fellow, I didn’t know he was so bad as that. I’ll go and see him at once.’

‘I think your Majesty had better not.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it might excite him too much, and besides, what would the Knight of London——’

But the Princess drew herself up and said:

‘I beg your pardon, but I must ask you not to mention that gentleman’s name, if you please.’

‘Whe—ew,’ ejaculated the doctor; ‘what’s in the wind now?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ said the Princess.

‘I—I only said—it’s an east wind now, your Majesty.’

Just then a page came running up, and said that the Knight of London wished to speak to the Princess.

‘Tell him that I am not quite well enough to see him now, but I will send a message to him, if he will stop a moment. And on your way just ask Lord Licec to come to me, please.’

‘Yes, your Majesty,’ said the page, and he disappeared.

In a moment Lord Licec came.

‘You sent for me, your Majesty, I believe?’

‘I did, my lord. It was about this Knight of London. I have discovered that he is not what he pretends to be at all, for he is in league with the Magi; and this Magog whom he pretends is his prisoner is really nothing of the sort. He is one of his allies, and they are going to break out and kill me, and every one else, and make themselves masters of everything.’

‘Oh, my wig!’ suddenly said the doctor, ‘I hope your Majesty won’t let them; if you intend to I shall depart without delay, for I don’t want to be eaten by this Magog.’

‘That’s just what I wanted to prevent by begging the Prince of India to help us; only you said that I mayn’t see him, doctor.’

‘Oh! on the contrary, your Majesty, it would be the best thing in the world—we’ll go at once.’

‘Wait a moment,’ said the Princess, and turning to Lord Licec she went on:

‘Now I want you to tell him that the Lords of the Council say that the last tournament was unfair, because he came in fresh at the end. And that if he wants to—to claim his rights, he must submit to go through another tournament. Of course he will—because he’s quite sure of winning—but he won’t this time.’

‘Are you quite sure, your Majesty?’

‘Oh! quite. And as all the knights who tilted last time are still in the town, let it take place to-morrow.’

‘Yes, your Majesty.’

‘And if you could keep him out of the way for a few hours—so that he won’t know what I’m going to do—so much the better.’

‘I’ll challenge him to a game of “Beggar-my-Neighbour”—that generally lasts for a pretty good time.’

‘That will do; the longer the better. Now I’m ready, doctor, if you’ll conduct me to the Prince.’

So they went out at a back door for fear the Knight of London should see them, and they soon reached the house of the Prince.

At the door was a servant, and they asked him where the Prince was.

‘In the garden, your Majesty. I will go and announce your arrival to him.’

But the Princess said:

‘Oh no! never mind—you needn’t trouble.’

And they went through into the garden. On the way the Princess said to the doctor:

‘I thought you said he was not well enough to get up?’

‘I did, your Majesty, but he insisted that he must get up, and be off to India this afternoon, and he was excessively violent when I told him he had better not get up—in fact he—he kicked me downstairs; and if your Majesty has no present need of me I will retire, for to tell the truth he threatened to have me ducked in a horsepond if I came near him again—and he meant it too.’

So the Princess gave him leave to go—in fact she was rather glad he had gone; and she went on walking down the path. It was one of those old-fashioned manor-gardens, full of tall stiff hollyhocks, and damask roses, and beds of thyme and mint, over which the bees were humming so loudly that they could be heard over the whole garden. As the Princess could not see him down one path, she turned into another alley of stiff holly bushes, but he was not to be seen down there either; however, she walked fast to the end of it—for you see she was rather impatient. Now it happened that just as she turned the corner, the Prince happened to be coming round too, and the result was that as they were going rather fast, and the Prince was the heavier of the two, the Princess was thrown back with violence against the hedge, and she couldn’t help exclaiming:

‘Oh!’—for you see he had trodden on her toe. As for the Prince, he could scarcely stand—for the shock and the sight of the Princess together produced a tremendous effect, as you may imagine—for she was the last person he had expected to see.

‘My goodness!’ he said, as soon as he was able to speak. ‘Your Majesty—I hope I haven’t hurt you—I am really very sorry. I am very sorry—will you allow me to help you to a seat?—for I see I have trodden on your foot.’

Her Majesty said:

‘Oh no! not at all, thank you.’

But all the same she let him give her his arm, and help her to a seat. It was a rustic seat—one of those queer seats made of branches of trees, and it stood in an arbour formed of rose-bushes, and there was plenty of room for two; so she said:

‘Won’t you sit down, Prince?’

But he answered:

‘I really have not the time, your Majesty. I was just about to start for India, and if your Majesty has no further need of me I will go, and send an attendant.’

But she did not seem to hear the last part of his sentence, for she answered:

‘You were going away without saying good-bye to me. Perhaps, however, you intended to call as you passed the palace.’

‘I really had not intended to, your Majesty, for you seemed to have so many affairs that I might have interrupted, that I thought it as well to go without troubling you.’

‘You shouldn’t have thought that. You see I have had so many affairs of State occupying me that I could not possibly get round to call, and you didn’t choose to come and see me, which was rather, I think—however, that doesn’t matter now. I have come to ask you to stop a little longer—till the day after to-morrow, if you won’t stop after that.’

But the Prince shook his head:

‘I have to go immediately; affairs of State, you know, demand my presence in India, and I must go at once, your Majesty.’

‘Can’t you really stop a little Prince?’

‘I really can’t, your Majesty—that is——’

‘Oh, please do; I’ll tell you something, if you like. I’ve found out who the Knight of London is.’

‘And then, your Majesty?’ inquired the Prince.

‘I don’t know what else. I—I thought that would be enough for you.’

‘I don’t understand you, your Majesty.’

‘I mean that when I didn’t know he was a wizard I thought he was very enchanting; but when I found out he was an enchanter, I thought you were enchanter—I mean more enchanting.’

The Prince was just saying:

‘Oh, your Majesty,’ when a peculiar noise from the back of the arbour made them both start, and the Princess jumped up so violently that the Owl, who had meanwhile gone to sleep, was nearly shaken off her shoulder.

‘What was that?’ she said.

‘It sounded like somebody laughing, or trying to keep from laughing rather. Just wait a moment, I’ll see who it was.’

And he went round behind the arbour. He soon returned bringing the doctor with him, and the doctor did not seem at all happy either.

‘Why,’ said the Princess, ‘I thought you were going to leave me. How is it that you came like this behind the arbour?’

‘I might just as well ask your Majesty why you came here.’

‘You might, but it would not be answering my question.’

‘I happened to come round there, your Majesty, to read a book in the shade, and I happened to drop off to sleep, and the noise you heard was my snoring.’

‘But how did you know we heard a noise if you were asleep at the time?’

‘I—eh—I don’t exactly know, your Majesty.’

‘It’s quite clear you were listening. I’ll excuse you this time, but if I catch you eavesdropping again I’ll make the Owl take you up into the sky and drop you—that may be a drop too much for you. You can go now, but don’t do so any more.’

But the Prince had still hold of him.

‘By the bye,’ he said, ‘there’s a horsepond near here; I think I’ll just take you there and throw you in, as I said I would if I caught you again.’

But the Princess said:

‘Oh, let him go, Prince,’ and the doctor hurried off at a great rate.

‘I don’t think he’ll come back again in a hurry,’ said the Prince; ‘meanwhile, what about the Knight of London?’

‘I must get rid of him as soon as I can, and I want you to help me.’

‘I, your Majesty—but how?’

‘The Council have decided that last tournament was not fair, because the Knight came in fresh and you were already tired out, so they have decided to have it over again, and you are requested to come and fight—for me.’

‘But what is the use of that? he’ll knock me over just as he did before.’

‘Oh no! he won’t, because I’ve found out his secret.’ And she told him about the paper.

At the end the Prince said:

‘Oh! that’s all right then. I’ll be there, your Majesty.’

‘But are you strong enough, do you think?’

‘Oh yes, your Majesty.’

‘And the affairs of State can be put off till the day after to-morrow. I promise to let you go as soon as you have got rid of the Knight for me.’

‘Oh, for the matter of that, there is no such great hurry. I really needn’t go for some time.’

‘But you can go whenever you like, you know.’

‘Thank you, your Majesty.’

‘But—a—I don’t want you to go, you know. In fact I should like you to stop, very much.’

‘Then I’ll stop as long as you like, your Majesty—for ever, if you like, your Majesty.’

‘I should like it very much, Prince,’ she answered.

I don’t exactly know what happened after that—perhaps you can guess—but they do say that the Owl, who chanced to wake at that moment, positively blushed; but then people are fond of exaggerating, and the Owl did not seem to object, so I suppose it was all right; and when the Princess went back to the palace, the Prince was quite good-tempered again, whereas before her visit he had been so angry that all his servants had left in a body—however, they came back when they found he was quiet again.

So the Princess was quite happy once more, as you may imagine, only there was one nasty thing she had to do, and that was to send a note to the Knight of London thanking him for having taken prisoner the King of the Magi, and hoping that he would be successful at the tournament on the next day—for you see she was not well enough to see him, and he was quite sure of winning, as he had done before, so he did not mind it very much.

The next day came, and the Princess was at the lists as before, and the crowd was just as great too, only there were very many less knights to fight, for the Knight of London was the challenger, and he—well, they had seen how he had treated the Prince of India, and they did not care to be tumbled over in such a very unceremonious way. However, two or three of the bravest in the world came and answered his challenge, but it was no use; they might just as well not have tried, for they were thrown from their horses so violently that they were most of them seriously hurt. So it seemed as if he was going to have it all his own way, for the Prince had as yet not put in an appearance, and the spectators began to call for him—for, as I said before, they liked the Prince better than the Knight; although he was so very handsome, still there was a something about him that they did not like at all. But the Knight had overcome all who had chosen to come against him, and his trumpets were sounding the challenge for the last time, and then their echoes died away and still no answering trumpet came, and the Princess was beginning to feel afraid that he had gone off to India and left her. But just as the Knight was advancing to claim his rights, a trumpet blast rang out brazen and shrill on the still air, and the Prince of India rode into the lists. He was still pale from his illness, but the people cheered him loudly, and the Princess gave a sigh of relief, and quite flushed with joy and excitement.

‘He’ll win this time,’ she said to Lord Licec, who was standing near her.

‘I don’t know so much about that,’ he answered, ‘for you see the Knight of London is in very good form to-day; and just look at the Prince’s shield—it’s made of cardboard, I should think—yes, it is. Ah—I am afraid his last defeat has rather turned his head.’

The Princess smiled and nodded. Lord Licec thought she was nodding to him, but she wasn’t; both the smile and the nod were meant for quite another person.

However, the combatants were already in their places, so she signed to the heralds to give the signal.

‘_Laissez aller_,’ they cried, and once again the Knight and Prince charged each other. This time they did not go so fast, and the spectators could see what took place. It was soon over. The spear of each of the combatants hit exactly the centre of the other’s shield. But the spear of the Knight broke as if it had been made of a bulrush. It was not so with the Prince—for his spear pierced through and through the seven-fold shield of the Knight, and the Knight himself was thrown right off his horse on to the ground. He, however, was on his feet in an instant, and rushed at the Prince, who leapt off his horse and confronted the Knight.

The Knight made a pass at the Prince with his rapier, but the Prince caught the thrust on his shield, and the sword came to the same end as the spear. The Knight had still his heavy battle-axe, and he lifted it on high to swing it down on to the head of his opponent. The Prince made no movement to defend himself, and the axe came full on his crest—through the crest it hit its way, and through the steel helmet, but when it got past the steel it hit on a paper helm below, and the axe shivered at the touch as if it had been glass. Then the Prince caught the Knight by the wrist:

‘Keep still,’ he said, ‘or I run you to the heart with my paper dagger.’

‘You can’t,’ sneered the Knight.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m heartless; so you can’t hurt my heart.’

The Prince took no notice of what he said. He had turned to the Princess, who was clapping her hands for joy—which was rather an unprincess-like act; but she couldn’t help it.

‘What shall I do with him?’ he said.

‘Let him go, I suppose.’

And the Knight was beginning to walk off as fast as he could. But a loud and commanding voice came from behind the Princess, and she looked behind her suddenly, and she almost fainted, for a marvellous change had come over the Owl, and it was still changing. She rubbed her eyes in astonishment, and all the people who could see him did so too, and then a great shout went up from all of ‘God save the King!’ for it was no longer the Owl they saw—it was the old King.

‘Stop!’ he cried loudly to the Knight, who was slinking off—‘you have not received your reward yet. Just wait a moment, and to prevent mistakes just take your ordinary form.’

And again every one present rubbed their eyes in astonishment—for the handsome calm face of the Knight was shrivelling up, and his raven hair had become an ugly gray, and the people recognised him too as an old acquaintance, for he was—who do you think now? Why, he was Merrymineral—it seemed as if that day gave two instances of old friends with new faces.

Although he didn’t at all seem to want to stay, he was obliged to stop at the King’s voice. So he stood in the middle of the lists looking very uncomfortable—for every one was looking at him. The King began:

‘Now let us see how many crimes you have committed. You have broken your oath—isn’t that right?’

‘Oh! quite correct, your Majesty.’

‘And you have rebelled against my daughter?’

‘Quite correct, your Majesty.’

‘And you have intended to murder her?’

‘Just so, your Majesty.’

‘And you tried to marry her?’

‘I should have been only too pleased, your Majesty.’

‘And you don’t repent, do you?’

‘Not at all, your Majesty.’

‘And the right punishment for each of your crimes is death?’

‘Just so, your Majesty.’

‘But I don’t care to sentence you to death—it’s not hard enough. I sentence you to live underground for ten thousand years.’

‘Ten thousand years, your Majesty!’

‘You can go at once, and if I catch you above ground—I shouldn’t like to be you.’

‘No, your Majesty. Good-day.’

And he kissed his hand to the Princess, and bowed gallantly to the Prince of India, and then the ground gave way under him—and he has never been heard of since. But the King turned to the Prince of India and said:

‘You may go now, Prince.’

The Prince looked astonished.

‘I do not quite understand, your Majesty,’ he said.

The King looked at him and said:

‘You seem to be uncommonly hard of understanding, cousin of India. I said, You can go.’

‘But I don’t want to go, your Majesty,’ the Prince answered, getting a little red.

‘Oh, don’t you?’ said the King; ‘from what I heard of a certain pleasant conversation in a certain summer-house you seemed to have important affairs of State that demanded instant attention.’

Here the doctor suddenly remarked:

‘If you will excuse me, your Majesty, I beg to differ from you when you refer to that conversation as pleasant. I myself heard it, or rather overheard it, and all I can say is I thought it most unpleasant,—most. That is, if your Majesty will excuse my remark.’

‘But I won’t,’ said the King suddenly. ‘I believe it was you that suggested I should be confined to a dark cellar for three weeks without food—eh!’

But the doctor suddenly remembered that he had an important case that demanded instant attention.

The King turned to the Princess and said:

‘Well—I suppose you can settle it for yourselves, you two, because I’m going now. I shall come and see you every seven years. Good-bye.’

And he suddenly turned into the Brown Owl, and flitted noiselessly off, before they could say ‘Good-bye,’ or anything else.

The Prince found that he could manage to postpone his affairs of State indefinitely, and in a few days the Prince and Princess were married and lived happily ever afterwards.

THE END

_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh._

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Transcriber’s Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 113, “too” changed to “to” (you’re talking to)