Chapter I

There was once a village lad whose name was Jehan, but because of the golden curls that covered his head they called him “Goldhair;” and because he chose to sit at home and read his grandame’s parchment book of knightly glory and fairy gold, while the other lads tilled the fields or roamed the woods, they called him a milksop, and he was laughed at and sometimes roughly treated by his parents and elder brothers. But his aged grandame, who dwelt in a lonely tower on a heath, and who was called the “wise dame,” would shake her staff at them and prophesy fame and fortune for her favorite.

[A] From William Morris’ “Goldilocks,” published by Thomas Crowell & Company.

It was in the high tide of summer and all the villagers were in the upland fields cutting grain. Indeed, so large were the wheat-fields of Goldhair’s countryside, that it was called “The Land of the Wheaten-shocks,” and Goldhair was often named in derision, “My Lord of Wheaten-shock.” Early one morning as the household ate the porridge and yellow cream which the serving wench poured in earthen bowls, Goldhair came into the rush-lighted kitchen, his grandsire’s sword clanking along the flagged floor. For, though they tilled the soil, the forebears of his family had worn armor and fought under a crested banner.

Goldhair was a brave sight that morning with his coat of scarlet and his hosen of green; a pheasant’s feather curled from his cap; a scrip hung over his shoulder, and he girded the good sword at his side.

“Whither away, son Jehan, when my wheat hangs heavy for the sickle?” thus his father.

“Whither away, son Jehan, when the water buckets await thee at the well, that the reapers may not be athirst?” cried his mother.

“Whither away?” said his little sisters, “and why do you wear your holiday dress, Jehan?”

“Whither away?” chorused his three great brothers, their smocks upgirded for the reaping and their brown arms and legs bare.

“I go into the wide, wide world,” answered Jehan, “to seek fame and fortune and to bring back the nut-brown fay for a wife.”

Now I must tell you that in an ancient wood nearby there dwelt a fay, a lovely creature with long, brown hair that clothed her like a garment. She seemed to serve and love all the woodland beasts and birds, and they often heard her sing there at twilight. Many a lad spent hours trying to catch a glimpse of her, but heard only the flitting of a light body through the leaves and a laugh like a wood bird’s call.

Within the depths of the wood, there stood a ruined castle. Though its drawbridge was gone and its moat a mere reed-grown swamp, the great iron gates stood closed and none had ever dared to scale its massive walls; for at night when the wind rocked the great old forest trees and the screech-owls cried weirdly, strange lights flickered in its iron-barred windows and strange wails echoed from its vine-covered walls. It was to this fearful place that Goldhair had full intent of going, though he dared not say so, for fear they would forcibly detain him. So, amid the jeers of his brothers, the reproof of his father, and the tears of his mother and sisters, he set out to seek his fortune in the wide, wide world and to bring back the nut-brown fay.