THE FAIR AND THE DARK ISOLDE
DEATH OF THE QUEEN. THE KING REMARRIES, AND PROCEEDS ON A TOUR THROUGH HIS KINGDOM.
There once reigned a king and queen, and they had one little daughter called Isolde. She was the loveliest little maiden ever seen; her skin was white as the driven snow, her cheeks looked as if pink rose-petals had fallen on them, her lips were the colour of the reddest cherries, and the deepest blue of the summer sky seemed reflected in her eyes, while her long fair hair, reaching almost down to the ground, glistened like gold when touched by the sun’s rays.
Having no son of his own, the king had adopted his nephew Fertram as his heir to the crown.
The boy was as handsome as the little girl was lovely, and his father and mother being both dead, he was brought up at his uncle’s court.
He was two years older than Isolde; but the children were devoted to each other, and the parents often looked forward to the time when they would be old enough to be betrothed and married.
But the truth of the old saying, “the best-laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley,” was once again to be verified, for when Isolde and Fertram were respectively sixteen and eighteen, and there was talk of a great betrothal feast shortly, the good queen, who had gone out bathing in the sea on a raw autumn morning, took a severe chill and shortly after died.
The king was quite inconsolable at her loss, and after her funeral, he shut himself up in his rooms for many months and would see no one but Fertram and Isolde. Even when at length he again came forth, he seemed to take no interest in anything.
Gradually matters grew worse and worse, till at last the chief officers of the court came to him and advised him to marry again.
For a long time the king would not listen to them; but at length, wearied out with their importunities, he said they might go and see if they could find any one worthy to succeed his late queen.
So some ships were fitted out, and the chief officers started forth on their quest, they sailed on for many days without seeing any land, but at length they saw some rising ground on the horizon, which, as they came nearer, proved to be a rocky island surrounded by a low sandy beach.
Here the men landed, and following a narrow road which led them up a thickly wooded valley, they presently arrived at the gates of a fine castle.
They looked to see if the warden was there, for the drawbridge was down; but no one was on the walls, so they crossed the bridge and blew the horn which hung near the gateway. Immediately the great doors flew open, and they entered.
Still there was no one about; so they walked up a wide flight of stairs, and presently they came out on a broad terrace. Here a handsome, tall, and stately woman, dressed all in black, came forward and bade them welcome; she then clapped her hands, and a pretty dark-haired maiden appeared, bearing a silver tray with flagons of rich wine and fruit.
The ministers were invited to sit down on one of the big stone benches, and while they were partaking of the fruit and wine, which was very welcome after their long walk, the lady told them that her husband had died in battle, most of his followers having also been killed, and that she was now living there alone with her daughter.
Then she brought out her lute, and sang to the men while they rested, and entertained them so well, that they all agreed they need go no further to seek a lady worthy to fill the late queen’s place; so they forthwith solicited her hand for their master the king.
At first the queen said she could not think of accepting the offer, for that she had made up her mind, after her dear husband’s death, to live and die in his now deserted castle; but the more reluctant she appeared, the king’s ambassadors only grew the more urgent, until at length she consented to go with them.
Handing over the castle and all it contained to an old servant, she and her daughter departed with the king’s people, and, the wind being favourable, the homeward journey did not take many days to accomplish.
When the king saw the ships in the distance all decorated with flags and gaily coloured banners, he knew that the ministers must have been successful in their quest; so he ordered out his golden chariot, and, accompanied by all his chief courtiers, drove down to the shore, there to await the travellers.
At length the vessels were beached, and no sooner had the king set eyes on his bride, than he at once felt a great love for her in his heart. He placed her beside him in his golden chariot, while her daughter and the attendants followed in a silver one. And thus they proceeded back to the palace, where a great feast had been prepared, at which all the great princes and nobles of the land were present.
The rejoicings continued for a whole week; wine and mead were lavishly dispensed to all who came, and the tables literally groaned beneath the great dishes of fish, flesh, and fowl, interspersed with huge pyramids of delicate cakes and delicious fruits.
At the end of the feast, each guest was presented with valuable gifts from the king’s treasure-house, so that all those who were poor when they came, returned home rich and happy, while the queen herself was invested with all the grandeur and power of her new position.
Strangely enough the new queen’s daughter was called Isolde, like the king’s daughter; but, though the former was very pretty, every one declared she could not compare with the latter. So, in order to distinguish them, the former was always spoken of as “dark Isolde” and the latter “fair Isolde.”
Now Isolde, the king’s daughter, did not live in the palace, for her father, on her sixteenth birthday, had built her a separate tower standing in the midst of a beautiful garden. It was fitted up with every possible luxury and convenience; rich curtains draped all the windows, soft couches, covered with dainty silks and cushions of cloth of gold, lined the walls, and bright carpets were spread on the inlaid, polished floors.
Here Isolde spent her days very pleasantly with her two favourite attendants Eya and Meya, spinning and weaving and gathering flowers to deck her rooms; and here Fertram would often join her, after one of their long rides in the forest, chatting and laughing and making happy plans for their future.
Soon after the king’s second wedding, the queen came to him one day, and, after praising his kind rule over his people, told him she thought he ought not to remain longer at home with her, but make a tour and visit all his provinces to see what the governors were doing, and whether they were getting in the treasure rightly.
The king, who was very happy and comfortable at home, did not at first agree to this; but the queen at last managed to persuade him, and also advised him to take Fertram with him, saying that it was only right he should see something of the world, and of the kingdom over which he was one day to rule.
So at length the king yielded, and ordered his ships to be got ready, at the same time telling Fertram that he was to accompany him.
Though pleased at the thought of the journey, Fertram was grieved to leave fair Isolde, and the parting between them was a very sad one, for both felt that some misfortune was hanging over them, and yet they could not tell what.
A few days later the king and Fertram sailed away amid great cheering of the people, who crowded down to the shore to wish the travellers good speed on their journey and a quick and happy return.
WHAT BEFALLS “FAIR ISOLDE” AFTER HER FATHER HAS GONE.
Isolde the fair felt terribly sad and lonely after her father’s and Fertram’s departure; she lost all interest in her work and play, and would sit for hours at one of the windows facing the sea, ever hoping to see the welcome sight of the returning ships.
At last, one morning about a fortnight after the king had gone, the queen came to her, and, greeting her kindly, asked her to come with her and her daughter dark Isolde and spend the day in the woods.
“I know a lovely spot,” she added, “where we can have a splendid game of ball, and then, when we are tired, we can sit down and rest and dine beneath the shade of the trees.”
Fair Isolde at first refused, saying she did not feel as if she cared to play; but the queen would take no denial, and at last Isolde, who had been very lonely since Fertram went away, agreed to go, together with her two maidens Eya and Meya.
It was a fine bright morning as the whole party set forth, and the sun and the fresh air soon made Isolde feel more like her former self.
Laughing and singing, the whole party wandered merrily through the woods till they reached a lovely open glade, when they commenced a merry game.
Here, there, and everywhere flew the bright-coloured balls, tossed and caught by eager hands.
Isolde the fair was more deft in her play than the others, and never missed a ball; but further and even further flew the balls sent by the queen and her daughter, till at length they and fair Isolde were quite out of sight of their attendants, when the latter, running swiftly after a bright crimson ball, suddenly paused, for at her feet there yawned a deep dark pit.
“Oh, stop!” she cried, startled, looking round at the queen and dark Isolde. “Stop! Don’t come any further, or you will fall into this dreadful place!” But the words had scarcely passed her lips when she felt a strong push and fell headlong into the hole.
Then the queen, laughing wickedly, looked down at poor Isolde and said—
“Ha! ha! my pretty bird! How do you like your new house, fair Isolde? It is not quite so fine as your grand, beautiful tower, is it? But you won’t need such pretty things now, for you will soon be dead, and then Fertram on his return will marry my dark Isolde!”
“Oh, help me out! Don’t leave me here!” cried fair Isolde; “and I will promise, on the word of a princess, never to speak of this to any one!”
“ ‘DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!’ CRIED FAIR ISOLDE.”
“No, no, my young damsel! Promises are easily broken; but the dead tell no tales!” And, despite her tears and entreaties, the wicked queen and her daughter placed branches of pine trees across the open pit, and then covered them thickly with earth and leaves, so that no one, even if they passed that way, would ever dream there was a grave hidden beneath.
By this time the sun had set, and it was getting dusk ere they had finished their task; so the queen and dark Isolde hastened back to the palace, but ere they entered it, they set fire to fair Isolde’s tower, which was soon completely burnt to the ground.
The queen’s attendants, meanwhile, together with Eya and Meya, finding the queen and the two princesses did not return, called out and searched for them in various directions, but, seeing nothing of them, concluded they had returned to the palace, and so, as it was now quite dark, hastened home themselves.
On their arrival there, they found the queen and dark Isolde, who said fair Isolde had returned with them back to her tower, saying she was tired, when shortly after, to their horror, they had noticed flames bursting out of the windows, but ere they could send help, the tower was burnt down.
Poor Eya and Meya were inconsolable at the loss of their beloved mistress, and mourned long and sadly for her.
“FAIR ISOLDE” ESCAPES, AND DISGUISES HERSELF.
We must now return to fair Isolde.
When she heard the queen’s words and knew that they did not mean to help her, but intended leaving her there to die, she wept long and bitterly; then, as hour after hour passed, and, though she listened intently, she could hear no one passing by who might have helped her, she sat down on a heap of leaves lying in one corner, and began to think how best she could get out. Then she suddenly remembered that she had fortunately that morning put on the golden girdle which had been a parting gift of her mother on her death-bed, and to which was attached a large pair of golden scissors. She had enjoined fair Isolde never to go outside the house without this girdle, for it had been given her by a fairy godmother, and had the marvellous power of preserving whoever wore it both from hunger and fatigue.
Isolde, therefore, after her first burst of grief, felt she was not quite helpless; the power of the girdle would save her from starvation, till she could once again procure food. And meanwhile, feeling somewhat comforted, she took hold of the big golden scissors, and by working hard, and persevering in spite of fatigue, she managed to dig some deep holes in the side of the pit, large enough to give her a good foothold, and thus managed to climb up to the top, and work her way through the mass of earth and leaves the wicked queen and her daughter had piled up together.
When she at last got out, she wandered about the forest for some time, till she got back to the open glade, where they had played ball.
Here she sat down to consider what she had better do.
At first she thought it would be safer to keep hidden away in the forest, for fear her stepmother might find her and again try to kill her; but, on second thoughts, she decided it would be better for her to return to the tower, and so disguise herself that no one could possibly recognize her.
She first stained her face brown with the juice of some berries, and then with her deft fingers she made herself a quaint dress and large cap out of various coloured leaves, and thus disguised, she went back to her tower, and found it a heap of ashes. Feeling now certain there was a plot against her, she determined to go on to the palace, went round to the kitchen door, and begged the cook to give her a morsel of food, as she was very hungry.
The cook, who was a kind-hearted old woman, told her to sit down on a bench, and fetched her some bread and meat, in return for which, Isolde offered to mend her clothes for her, as she probably had no time to do so herself, saying her name was Näfra Kolla, the sewing girl.
The old cook, who, although good at her own work, was no great hand with her needle, was delighted when she heard this, and told her she was welcome to stay as long as she liked, more especially as the king would soon be back, when there would be plenty of work for every one.
So Näfra Kolla remained, and when it was seen how clever she was with her needle, she found plenty to do, for the whole king’s household declared they had never seen such beautiful work as hers.
FERTRAM FALLS UNDER A SPELL, AND IS BETROTHED TO “DARK ISOLDE.”
At length the king returned from his long tour accompanied by Fertram, and as soon as the ships were in sight, the queen and her daughter drove down to the shore to welcome them home.
When they were all four seated in the golden chariot on their way back to the palace, both the king and Fertram were greatly surprised not to see fair Isolde, and asked why she had not come down to meet them.
Then the queen, pretending to weep, and putting her handkerchief to her eyes, said that some time after the king’s departure, the tower in which Isolde lived had been burned to the ground; no one could find out how the accident had happened, but they thought the princess must have carelessly left a light near some of the curtains.
This terrible calamity was a fearful blow to Fertram, so, instead of joining in the festivities to celebrate the king’s return, he shut himself up in his own rooms and would see no one for several weeks.
At last the queen herself came to his door, and as she would take no denial, he was at length obliged to open it. When she entered, he saw she held a golden goblet in her hand, filled with wine. At first he would have none of it; but as she continued to press and urge him, if only just to taste it, hoping by so doing to get rid of her, Fertram took the cup and drank a little. But no sooner had he swallowed the first mouthful than he fell into a deep sleep, and lost all consciousness.
When at last he awakened, all remembrance of his love for fair Isolde had vanished.
The queen, seeing the satisfactory effect of her magic draught, lost no time in sounding the praises of her own daughter, until at length, after much persuasion, Fertram consented to marry her, and a day was fixed for the wedding.
Ere this could take place, however, the future bride had, according to the custom of the country, to embroider and make up both her own and the bridegroom’s wedding garments.
Now, dark Isolde was not good with her needle; she was very lazy, and much preferred idling about and gossiping in the stables and kennels, to sewing or spinning indoors.
In her perplexity as to what she had better do, for she wanted to marry Fertram, she sauntered across the stable yard to the kitchen, where the old cook was sitting on a stool shelling peas, and asked her what she would advise her to do.
“THE OLD COOK WAS SITTING ON A STOOL SHELLING PEAS.”
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself to be so helpless,” answered the cook, crossly, for she had no love for the new queen and her daughter. “It is all very well for a poor old woman like me not to be able to use her needle, for I have always had to work hard for my living, and my hands soon got too rough for sewing much; but for a young princess like you not to be able to embroider her own wedding-dress! Why, such a disgrace will be handed down for generations! But there, as you are so stupid, I suppose I must try and help you. Fortunately there is a young girl here, called Näfra Kolla, who sews as beautifully as any princess; you tell her I sent you, and I dare say she will help you.”
When dark Isolde heard this she was greatly pleased, and at once ran up to her room and brought down the various pieces of silk and twists of gold and silver thread, and brought them to Näfra Kolla, begging her to make up the garments. This Näfra Kolla promised to do, and her clever busy fingers finished both the bridal garments the evening before the wedding.
THE SPELL IS BROKEN, AND THE WICKED QUEEN’S DESIGNS ARE FRUSTRATED.
The following morning the sun shone out bright and clear, and every one declared no happier omen could usher in so auspicious a day.
But when the queen went to her daughter’s room to waken her, in place of dark Isolde, there lay a hideous dwarf in the bed.
“Oh, Isolde!” cried the queen, wringing her hands, “what can we do? How was it possible that we both forgot that this is the one morning in the year on which you must resume your own form? Oh, this is terrible! We must put off the wedding, and say that you are ill!”
“No, no,” croaked the misshapen figure; “if we once let Fertram off, I know he will never marry me.”
The queen remained lost in thought for a few minutes. Then she exclaimed—
“I know what we will do! I will get Näfra Kolla, the sewing girl. She is just your height and size. I will dress her as the bride, and under the thickly embroidered veil no one will notice the difference. Then, after the whole party come back from their ride, you will have resumed your own pretty face and figure. You can then change with Näfra Kolla, and none will be any the wiser.”
“But will not Näfra Kolla talk about it or object?” asked the dwarf.
“Neither she herself nor any one else will know anything about it,” replied the queen, “You leave it all to me.”
In a short time the queen went to Näfra Kolla’s room, and brought her a hot cup of coffee.
“Drink this,” she said; “I am sure you must be wearied out with all the work you have done, and this will be a tiring day for you.”
Though Näfra Kolla was not thirsty, she did not like to refuse the queen, thinking she really meant it kindly; but no sooner had she swallowed the coffee than she seemed to fall into a sort of trance. It seemed to her as if she were Isolde again, and that this was her own wedding-day. She was dressed in the bridal garments, and the richly embroidered veil was thrown over her; then, after the wedding ceremony was over, the whole bridal party went for a ride through the forest. It all seemed like a strange dream to the girl.
As they passed the blackened ruins of Isolde’s tower, Näfra Kolla murmured—
“Once thou wert bright and fair,
Now thou art burnt, oh chamber mine.”
Fertram bent forward on his horse, and asked her what she had said. But she gave him no answer.
Shortly after they came to a big lime tree, whose sweet blossoms scented the whole air, and Näfra Kolla murmured—
“Behold this giant linden tree
Beneath whose shade Fertram and Isolde
Plighted their troth for ever and aye.
And he will hold to it yet!”
After riding some little distance further, they came to the deep trench.
Looking down into it, Näfra Kolla murmured—
“But for my dear mother’s golden gifts,
Here would my life have ended.”
Once again Fertram asked her what she had said; but still she remained silent.
At last, just as the sun was setting, they returned to the palace. Näfra Kolla dismounted and went up to her own room; but scarcely had she sat down, than a sudden giddiness seized her, all grew dark before her eyes, and she lost consciousness.
Then the queen, who had been waiting for her, came forth from behind a screen where she had been hidden, and, taking off the bridal garments, she hastened with them to dark Isolde’s room. The latter had now regained her fair form, and was quickly robed in the rich garments of the bride, after which the queen returned to Näfra Kolla and dressed her in her usual dress.
Presently Fertram came for Isolde, and, sitting down beside her, asked her what she had said during the ride, when they passed the ruins of her tower.
“I really cannot remember what I said,” replied Isolde.
“But you must tell me,” said Fertram.
Then Isolde went to her mother and asked her what Näfra Kolla could have said. So the queen told her, and Isolde returned to Fertram and repeated the words.
But he felt strangely dissatisfied.
“I should also like to know what it was you said when we passed beneath the great lime tree, and when we came to that deep trench in the forest.”
“I really cannot recollect all I said,” replied dark Isolde, crossly. “I am sure it was nothing of any importance.”
“Nay, but I insist upon knowing,” said Fertram, “you seemed so strange and not at all like yourself; you must tell me!”
So Isolde once again went to her mother, and the queen said that when they came to the great linden tree, Näfra Kolla had said—
“Behold the giant linden tree
Beneath whose shade Fertram and Isolde
Plighted their troth for ever and aye.
And he will hold to it yet!”
and that when they arrived at the deep trench, she murmured—
“But for my dear mother’s golden gifts,
Here would my life have ended.”
When dark Isolde returned to Fertram with these answers, she thought, “Surely now, he must be satisfied.”
But all these replies had just the opposite effect, for the more he heard, the more strange and startling did it all appear to him.
“Oh, my lost fair Isolde,” he cried, “would that I could learn the truth of all this!”
Then suddenly it seemed as if a veil were lifted from his memory, he recollected all his love for his cousin fair Isolde, and how different she was in every way to the dark maiden beside him.
“Oh, Isolde, my own fair princess,” he cried, “would that I could see you once again and hold you to my heart! But as you are dead, and this is not possible, may I also die, and so be with you!”
Scarcely had these words passed his lips, when a soft light suddenly filled the room, and lo! in the open doorway stood his own fair cousin, more sweet and beautiful than ever.
Stretching out her arms towards him, she said—“Oh, Fertram, your love and faithfulness have conquered and overcome the wicked spells of my stepmother. If you indeed are still true to me, we may yet defeat her, and all will be well!”
“Isolde, my own Isolde,” cried Fertram, “can it really be you, or is it only your spirit; and are you not dead, as they solemnly assured me?” And he drew her lovingly towards him.
At this moment, the queen rushed into the room, speedily followed by the king.
When she saw that her wicked scheme had fallen through, she gave a great scream, which shook the whole palace. In an instant she was changed back into the wicked giantess she had originally been, and her daughter, who was behind her, became again the ugly little dwarf.
The king, in his anger at the terrible deception that had been practised on him, wanted then and there to order them to be instantly killed; but, at fair Isolde’s petition, they were sent back to their own island, and bound never to quit it on pain of instant death.
Then a fresh, and, this time, a very merry wedding-feast was ordered, which was much more magnificent than the last one. The tables were laden
“With peacocks roasted
And peacocks spiced,
With fishes boiled
And fishes fried,
With mimjam and pimjam
And multum salve;
The wine that was drank
Was primat and claret,
As well as the wine of Garganus.”
Then all the guests, ere their departure, were laden with presents from the king’s treasure-house; and when, after some years, the old king was gathered to his fathers, Fertram and Isolde reigned jointly, and lived long and happily, seeing their children and great-great-grandchildren around them.