Part 5 (1/2)

”That is sad news, good Kite-bird,” said the maiden, ”but when you see my prince again, pray tell him that my hopes are his, and I am sure he cannot fail to win his quest.”

And still another time did Maiden Mata.n.u.ska ask an Auk to tell her of Prince Kenai.

”I saw him,” said the Auk, ”and from the feather robe he wore I judged him first to be some bird. In lands where scarlet poppies lull the weary travelers to deep sleep, and waterfalls make thunder down the mountain sides, Prince Kenai I saw toiling up a rocky slope where it is said the Sun does rise.”

”And did he reach the top of this steep slope?” asked Maiden Mata.n.u.ska.

”Now that I could not say,” the Auk replied, ”for I was flying swiftly and paused not at all. But this I know; the Sun's a mighty, glowing being and is like to burn all those who venture near his presence.

Unless Prince Kenai have some magic charm, I doubt if the Sun will heed him.”

”That is the saddest news of all,” sighed Maiden Mata.n.u.ska. ”But even so, I shall not weep but pray for him instead. When you next see my prince, good Auk, tell him that all my love is his, and I'll await his coming though he remain a thousand years.”

”I shall,” replied the Auk, and soared away.

And so the Maiden Mata.n.u.ska waited while the time sped on. Wrapped in her feather mantle, she wandered through the birches like a lonely spirit, and the trees were grieved for her. She still dreamed dreams and loved to think about the time when she would greet her prince; when the light of day would banish all the gloom and shadows of the Northland Kingdom. Still years pa.s.sed on, and still Prince Kenai came not. King Tamna feared him dead or that perhaps he had lost his way and was a wanderer forlorn; but Maiden Mata.n.u.ska knew no fears.

”The journey to the Sun is long, my father,” she would say, ”and my brave prince no magic hath to make it short. He will return and bring with him this wondrous traveler whom he seeks, and what a pleasant place the Northland Kingdom then will be!”

But as the time went by there came great sadness in the Northland Kingdom. The good King Tamna laid him down to sleep one night and never waked again. All folk both high and low mourned deeply, for good King Tamna had been like a kindly father rather than a king. When at last the time of mourning pa.s.sed, Lord Boreas, cousin to King Tamna, came to rule the Northland Kingdom.

Now Lord Boreas was a cruel sovereign, a tyrant, and the people were unhappy under his rule. He made harsh laws, and if these laws were not obeyed, he punished with severity. Lord Boreas, it was whispered, had an evil power over the icy winds and rivers in the Northland Kingdom, and few dared resist his will. His anger, it was said, had caused many a village to be blown into the sea and n.o.ble cities to be flooded with a rush of waters. But while the rule of this harsh king fell hard on all alike, on Maiden Mata.n.u.ska it fell hardest. Lord Boreas was her guardian. He scorned the simple customs of the good King Tamna and straightway ordered all things to his liking. He planned to fell the Maiden Mata.n.u.ska's forest and build a city in its place.

”However, my sweet cousin,” said Lord Boreas, ”I'll wait until the next mild season is at hand. Then when the silver foxes come from their winter's sleep, my hunters shall lay traps for them and slay them every one. Their skins will sell for gold, and for your marriage portion you shall have a n.o.ble city and ten thousand chests of gold, and I myself will marry you and make you queen.”

Though Maiden Mata.n.u.ska's heart was sad, and she wept bitter tears for her loved trees and pets, she made no protest at her cousin's words.

She feared his wrath, and so she bowed her head submissively. But when the palace slept and all was still, wrapped in her feather mantle, she stole softly out. Down through the shadowy lanes and misty isles among the silver birches she sped, until she reached the border of the sea.

Then through the gloom she peered to see the sight of any sail; but no sail she saw.

”Oh, my beloved prince,” she wept, ”I fear that when you come 'twill be too late. For rather than to wed my cruel cousin, I'll fling myself into the sea and die!”

”Now, Maiden Mata.n.u.ska, what grave sorrow can this be?” a gruff voice spoke beside her. It was old Reynard, chief of all the silver foxes. He had stolen from the burrow to learn how went the season and to know when he might waken all his sleeping tribe.

”Oh, Reynard, my good friend!” exclaimed the maiden. ”Since first you did begin your winter's sleep, I have had many sorrows. My father, good King Tamna, is no more, and now my cruel cousin Boreas rules the Northland Kingdom.” She told her tale of sorrows, and old Reynard listened, all alert.

”Without a doubt, your cruel cousin Boreas hath an evil power over the winds and streams,” said he, when she had finished, ”but he shall learn it is not simple to outwit the cunning fox. Now in the past, as you, dear maiden, have protected me and all my tribe from harm, so will we now protect you in your need. Come, follow me; do as I bid, and all will yet be well.” So saying, old Reynard then led the maiden down beneath the earth to where the silver foxes still slept their winter's sleep, and birch roots wound about in and out.

”Now, Maiden Mata.n.u.ska,” said Reynard, ”if you will place a feather from your mantle at the root of every tree, they will be safe from cold and icy blasts, in spite of all Lord Boreas in his wrath may do. Then when that's done, wrap you all warmly in what's left of it and rest you safely with my people. When Prince Kenai comes I'll waken you.”

The Maiden Mata.n.u.ska did as Reynard bid, and far beneath the earth she hid herself from cruel Boreas. 'Twas well she did, for when her cousin found her fled, his anger knew no bounds. He sent great parties out to search the land, and he himself, with flaming torch in hand, set out to seek her in the forest. Among the birch trees he found traces, showing that the Maiden Mata.n.u.ska pa.s.sed that way. Upon a branch he found a scarlet ribbon she had worn, and in the thorn-bush was caught a silken scarf; but though he sought for hours and called her name, Lord Boreas could not find the maiden.

”Because I do not know the winding paths among the trees as well as you, you think to trick me, Maiden Mata.n.u.ska,” he cried at last, in fury, ”but you shall know my vengeance now.” Then climbing up the steep slopes of a near-by mountain, and summoning all his powers of evil, he commanded thus:

”Rise, rise, ye rivers that flow swiftly to the sea, until the birchen forest in the valley be all flooded with a mighty rush of waters! Then blow, ye chill winds, from the east and north until these waters to a solid wall of ice are all transformed.”

The rivers, obedient at his command, then rose swiftly and overran their banks so that soon the tallest trees were all submerged, and nothing but a lake was seen. The winds began to blow their wildest, and the lake became a solid bank of ice that threw off chilling mists.

Then Boreas called the people of the Northland Kingdom and addressed them thus: ”Behold the fate of Maiden Mata.n.u.ska and beware! For so shall perish all who dare defy me.”

The people wept and mourned in secret for the maiden whom they dearly loved, but there were none who dared cry out against the cruel Boreas.