IN WHICH IS TOLD THE STORY OF ALFRED OF THE
LOW COUNTRY, AND JANICE, WHO LOVED THE
QUEEN’S PAGE
“IN the days of the good and splendid King Arthur there was an old letter-writer named Baudin. He lived in a small garden below the Castle wall, and the loveliest hollyhocks and jasmine grew about the door of the cottage. He had everything he desired and that was not a great deal. His business was to write letters; love letters and business letters for the Knights and Ladies who had never been to school and could not write for themselves. His daughter was a very pretty little sunshiny girl who kept his house in order and cooked his meals. She sang as she worked and was always happy.”
“Please, what was her name?” asked Martha Mary.
“Her name? Why, I have really forgotten.”
“Was it Jane? I should like it to be Jane.”
“Jane? Now, perhaps, it was. Or Janice. I think it must have been Janice in those days. So we will call her that. Janice used to do her work early in the morning so that she might spend the afternoon sewing or caring for the garden flowers. Next to her father she loved flowers more than anything else in this wide, wide world. They were happiness, just as the song of the birds and the shining of Lady Rumdidoodledum and the other stars is happiness. Janice was so very happy that she never wished to have things changed. She wanted to go on forever caring for her father and living in the cottage by the Castle wall. True, at times, she thought of the lad who hoped to marry her some day, but he does not come into the story for a long time.
“One day, as Janice was sitting under a cypress tree, a handsome Knight came down the road, mounted on a splendid black horse. The stranger wore a blue satin jerkin, black knee-breeches, and stockings of blue. There was gold braid on his suit and a golden tassel dangling on his hat. From the brim waved a lovely grey-blue plume. Very straight he rode, and dignified, looking neither to right nor left. As he passed the cottage Janice looked up and saw that the black horse was very tired.
“‘Kind Sir,’ she said, and blushed at her boldness, ‘your horse is worn with the heat. May I fetch him water?’
“The Knight looked down and when he saw lovely Janice he swept his plumed hat to his breast.
“‘Lady,’ said he, ‘your kindness well becomes your fairness. If you will but show me to the well I shall thank you and carry the water myself.’
“Janice curtsied and led him through the ivy-covered gate, bringing a bucket to the trough for him. When he had filled it and would carry it out she took it up.
“‘Good Sir,’ she said, ‘you may spill it and harm your beautiful suit. I will bear it for you.’
“The Knight bowed. ‘Our Good Lady would be annoyed,’ said he, ‘were I to appear before her in disarray. It were best that I do not soil myself.’
“So Janice took the pail and smiled to herself at the conceit of the good Knight. While the horse drank the girl rubbed its silky coat and patted its neck. Then the Knight bowed again and sprang to his saddle. Janice curtsied and went in to darn her father’s sox.
“You may think she would be excited at having aided a Knight of King Arthur’s Round Table, but she was not at all. She thought much of the splendid black horse but not at all of its conceited master. With him, however, it was different. When he had ridden away he could not forget the girl’s beauty and he saw her face wherever he went. He became very unhappy, then, for he found himself very much in love, and a Knight of Arthur’s Court could never marry the daughter of a letter-writer. Every day he rode by the cottage and saw Janice under the trees, sewing or trimming flowers. He would sweep his hat to his breast and she would bow without smiling, although often she came out with a pail of water for the horse. Naturally the more the Knight saw her the more he loved her, and the more miserable he became.
“On the birthday of Guinivere, Arthur’s Queen, there was a royal tournament planned, with fencing and lance bouts and dancing on the oak lawns. Tents were raised and they flew the Queen’s colors: a pavilion was built with a canopied box where the Queen sat surrounded by her Ladies and attendants. All morning there were gaming and May dances. In the early afternoon the Queen’s Herald blew a blast on his silver trumpet and announced the Queen’s bout in which all Knights might compete. The prize was to be a crimson ribbon from Guinivere and the granting of any request in her power that the winner might make. Again the Herald blew a blast and out from the tents came the Knights astride the finest of Arabian and Russian horses. Their lances were under their arms; their Ladies’ colors on their sleeves. To the center of the oak lawn they charged where the din of fighting and the crashing of lances against shields became so uproarious that one could scarcely hear the cheers of the spectators. For an hour they fought until Alfred of The Low Country—(that being the name of the Knight who loved Janice)—and Herbert of The Blue Feather, were left. Again and again they charged—lance met shield and shield glanced off lance, till suddenly, Alfred’s horse reared and Knight Alfred slid to the ground. He sprang up and struck the animal across the haunches with his lance, so that the horse dashed away across the field. Then Alfred threw down his lance and drew a dagger, all shiny and sharp. Immediately Knight Herbert sprang to the ground with his dagger drawn and they fell to fighting again.
“Meanwhile Alfred’s horse, freed of his rider, whinnied a moment, then stampeded toward the further edge of the oak lawn where the villagers and their wives and daughters were gathered to see the sports. Right into the center of them he rushed, directly at Janice, who stood terrified at the side of the old letter-writer. The crowd cried out in fear when, just as the horse reached and would have trampled Janice to the ground, a page boy, who had stolen away from his place by Queen Guinivere, dashed forward, grasped the horse by the mane, and stopped his rush. Only a moment the animal hesitated, then turned his head and sprang forward into the field again with the boy clinging to his mane with all his might. The steed plunged and reared and finally, just as he was captured by guards who rushed forward, he shook the boy off. The page lay where he had fallen, his head buried in his arm. Past the guard and out to him, Janice rushed and sank down and took his wounded head on her knee.
“Meanwhile, across the field, the combat had continued as though nothing else had happened. But King Arthur had seen all and determined to reward the boy.
“Thrusting and sparring, Alfred of The Lowland and Herbert of the Blue Feather fought, till suddenly Alfred’s dagger pierced his opponent’s side and Herbert fell, bleeding. Alfred was winner of the tournament.
“To Guinivere he came, flushed and happy, and kneeled before her. He kissed her hand, offering her, at the same time, his victorious dagger. She smiled and took the weapon, then pinned to Alfred’s sleeve the red ribbon she wore at her heart.
“‘Arise, Sir Conqueror,’ she said. ‘Ask of me what you will and if it be in my power I shall grant it.’
“‘My Lady,’ said Alfred, ‘all things are in your power; the very birds sing when you smile upon them.’
“‘Flatterer,’ said Guinivere. ‘You frighten me, I fear you are going to ask a very great favor of me.’
“‘For me,’ said Alfred, ‘it will be greater than vast estates. For you, Dear Queen, it will be little more than a spoken word. I ask that you raise Janice, daughter of Baudin, the letter-writer, to my rank, so that I may marry her.’
“‘Your wish shall be granted,’ said the Queen. ‘You may go to your love, and tell her my pleasure.’
“Across the field, on his black horse, went Alfred, to find Janice on her knees, bathing and bandaging the page’s head. She rose as Alfred approached. He bowed proudly and sprang to the ground. Before all the gathered villagers, he spoke, saying to Baudin, the father:
“‘Good man, the Queen, knowing the love that is in my heart for your daughter, has ordained that she be raised to my rank so that I may make her my wife.’
“Old Baudin became so embarrassed that he could hardly speak.
“‘The honor you do us is great, Good Knight,’ he said. ‘It is very wonderful tidings, you bring. Janice, my child, what say you?’
“‘Verily, we are deeply honored,’ she said. ‘And we thank you and beg you to ask the forgiveness of my Lady, the Queen, but I do not love you, Sir Knight; I would ask that you do not demand that I marry you.’
“‘Great Saints!’ shouted Alfred. ‘Am I to understand that you refuse a chance to marry with one of my station and bearing? Strike me, but you are a proud one and the more to be desired. Sir, what say you of the girl’s nonsense? Command her to rise up and go to the Queen that she may be made of high rank and a fitting bride for me!’
“‘Sir Knight,’ said old Baudin, now very proud and calm, ‘I am the father of my child’s happiness, not the keeper of her heart. Her wish is my wish ever. She will thank our good Queen for her graciousness and beg to decline the honor.’
“‘We shall see,’ said Alfred. ‘Come, I shall lead you to the Queen. Perhaps her Gracious Self will be able to drive this stupidity out of your head.’
“Janice put her fingers in his and allowed him to lead her to the Queen’s box. At Guinivere’s feet sat the page, his head bandaged, his chin in his hands.
“Janice kneeled and bowed her head.
“‘Oh, kindest of queens,’ she whispered. ‘I thank you for your favor. I am honored more than my dreams had ever hoped for. But I beg, Dear Lady, that you will not demand my acceptance.’
“‘I do not understand,’ said Guinivere.
“Then Janice told her that she did not love the Knight; that she loved the page who had saved her and who had loved her long and secretly. She went on:
“‘Dear Queen, on this, your birthday, when you are trying to make all the world happy, do not force me to accept the kind offer of this good Knight. Let me go back to my father’s garden.’
“As she spoke, Knight Alfred had become red and furious. He spoke, finally, saying:
“‘I take back my request, O Queen. I could never take to wife a hussy who would bestow her love upon a page. I do not wish her; I ask no other prize than your red ribbon and your kind thoughts.’
“‘Sir,’ said Guinivere, ‘your request shall be granted. And,’ she said, turning to the page, ‘you, sir. Do you love this girl?’
“‘As I love the music of the winds and the birds and your voice,’ said the page.
“‘Then,’ said Guinivere, ‘for your bravery you may have her and make her your wife.’
“The page kneeled, first at the feet of the Queen and then before Janice. She rested her trembling fingers on his shoulders and kissed him upon the brow.
“Then arose King Arthur.
“‘Lad,’ said he, ‘you have pleased me twice to-day: firstly in saving, secondly in loving this child. Therefore, I shall grant you whatever you wish. Think well! What does your heart most desire?’
“‘Sire,’ said the page, rising and bowing humbly, ‘I am allowed to serve the fairest queen and the bravest king in the world. I am loved by the dearest maiden in the kingdom. I have nothing to ask; there is no more I desire of Life but to live and die for you.’
“‘Well spoken,’ said Arthur, the King. Then he turned to Janice.
“‘I know not which of you is the more fortunate,’ he said. ‘Life should hold much for you. Go, then, with your husband, and remember that Arthur ordains that you shall honor, respect, and ever love him, and be happy, both of you, always.’
“And they were!”
“Of course they were,” said a strange voice when Flip had finished. “If they loved each other they couldn’t help but be happy always.”
The children all jumped up and looked through the trees. There was a girl standing there; a brown-haired girl with laughing eyes and a jaw just like a man’s. Martha Mary knew who it was right away. It was Jane. Even if you weren’t sure you could tell by the color of Flip’s face. He stood up, all red, and said:
“Hullo, child,” and shook hands with her, just like a couple of almost strangers would do. Then he introduced her to the children.
“Jane, this is John Sherman, by far the most important member of the family. John, this is Jane. And this, Jane, is Martha Mary, but we will call her Sister. These are the almost twins: Edward Lee who dips cats in whitewash, and Walter, who puts new spots on them with blue ink. This is Liza alias Elizabeth alias Butterfly. And this, if you please, is Hermit. You know he was really the one who discovered me.”
Hermit, when he heard his name, got up and yawned, then wagged his tail and smiled as politely as could be.
“Please,” said Martha Mary, when they were all introduced. “It’s my birthday and we should like you to stay and help me celebrate.”
“But Jane has—er——” Flip started to grumble.
“Jane has nothing, Young Man,” said Jane. “I know you are all on edges to show me the proofs of your book and tell me how wonderful you are, but you will have to wait. I’m going to celebrate.”
“All right,” said Flip. “Then I’ll go jump in the lake—or eat a snail or something.”
It was John who saved the day. “Last one to the stable is it and a nigger-baby,” he shouted.
Away rushed all the children, and Jane would have followed, but her skirts were too tight. So she sat on the haystack next to Flip and when Martha Mary turned around just once, she saw—but Martha Mary would not tell us what she saw.