Part 8 (1/2)
”Oh, sire, if indeed thou art the great monarch Antiphates, pardon the imprudence of my faithful dog: he comes with me from the depths of our forest home, where gallants and horses are alike unknown, and on the approach of thy proud train he sprang forth to defend his poor mistress, thus discomfiting in some measure thy brave men-at-arms.”
At this curious answer, given in all simplicity, the soldiers exchanged doubtful glances, imagining Fidunia to be crazy for thus bearding their pa.s.sionate sovereign. But the King hungrily fastened on her words. He threw himself from his chariot with wonderful rapidity, and, half groping his way, half guided by Domenichino (who hastily dismounted to a.s.sist his royal master), seized hold of Fidunia's hand, crying, ”Ha!
from the forest, sayest thou, and by thy voice a fair and gentle maiden?” Ere he could utter another word, however, Fido, already watching his stumbling movements with considerable mistrust, broke into such angry snarling that Fidunia, freeing her hand, stepped backwards, and did not see the gestures of merriment exchanged among the cavaliers around, as the unfortunate monarch spoke of her being ”fair.”
Though Fido's repeated interference was decidedly provoking, yet Antiphates preserved unusual command over his short, uneven temper. He entreated Fidunia to consider herself his guest; to enter his chariot and accompany him to his palace, whither he was now returning after a noonday drive. She demurred at first, because of her dog, fearing that his misbehaviour might be severely visited upon him. As if reading the cause of her hesitation, however, and aware of her fatigue, Fido leapt from her arms, and, hastily flying past the attendants, bounded upon the carriage-seat, wagging his tail, and motioning to his mistress to follow. Aided, therefore, by Domenichino, she soon found herself ensconced in the carriage, opposite that great potentate, whose well-remembered name had first been made known to her in her dreams.
As she mused on his peculiar appearance, unable to discover, as he turned on her his dark expressive eyes, whether the King was able to scan her countenance or no, he bent suddenly towards her, saying, ”Maiden, I have more for thine ear than may be heard by others; meantime, I bid thee welcome to my kingdom.” Ere she could frame a reply to this gracious speech, he leant back again and relapsed into complete silence, apparently absorbed in unquiet meditations.
The swift onward motion of the chariot was new and strange to Fidunia.
Leaving the desert region behind them, they descended nearer the water's edge, and sped lightly along the smooth high road.
Smiling vineyards clothed the mountain's side on the one hand; on the other, the broad blue sea stretched her ”ample field.” The jangling of the military trappings gave forth a sound not unpleasing to the ear, as the escort swept merrily on.
Weary with her exertions, and lulled by the monotonous movement of the carriage, Fidunia half slumbered as she leant back on the luxurious cus.h.i.+ons, her mind filled with youth's vague ecstatic visions of future happiness. But Fido, wary and watchful, folded lovingly in his mistress's arms, turned a vigilant eye alternately upon the uneasy King and his glittering body-guard.
It would be impossible adequately to describe the forlorn condition of the monarch, in whose stately equipage destiny had thus strangely placed the forest maiden and her dog. Surrounded by all the pomp and wealth of his splendid court, he was yet debarred by his misfortune from enjoying the visible beauties of nature, or the works of art with which his palace and kingdom abounded.
Unable to employ his powerful mind in perusing the records of the past, or the writings of the poets and philosophers of his own day, incapable of discerning the commonest objects in the world around, and conscious only of a difference between light and darkness, night and day, the great King's melancholy affliction demanded double commiseration in an age when comforts for the blind had neither been invented nor studied.
Music became a source of constant pleasure to him; nor was it surprising that he invariably judged people by their voices as they spoke or sung before him, forming in this unusual way a wonderfully accurate conception of character.
It is needless to say that remedies of all sorts had been tried upon the eyes of the hapless monarch. Many physicians had exerted their utmost skill in endeavouring to ameliorate his condition. He had visited in turn not only the most celebrated baths and watering-places, but also the various oracles then existing in Europe.
Disheartened and hopeless, he had at last well-nigh succ.u.mbed to his fate, when a strange incident once more roused the seemingly subdued, yet ever dormant pa.s.sion of hope in his breast.
Antiphon (the foster-brother of the blind King), while wandering on the hills surrounding Deva, in his vocation of shepherd, noticed sulphureous fumes issuing from a cleft he had never before observed in the mountain's side. Taking with him a torch, he cautiously entered the yawning aperture, and groped his way along, until he suddenly found himself in a lofty subterranean cave. In the centre of this cave lay a marble block, fas.h.i.+oned like a huge coffin. Antiphon hastened home to tell his neighbours of his discovery and to gain a.s.sistance. Returning to the cave, he and his fellows succeeded in pus.h.i.+ng off the ponderous lid, which fell cras.h.i.+ng to the ground, and broke into a thousand pieces.
Within the sarcophagus was now exposed to view a shrivelled though perfect mummy; and an old man of the party recollected having heard an ancient prophecy which foretold that answers regarding future events should one day issue from ”withered lips, dumb with the silence of ages, and awful in their semblance to humanity.”
Antiphon at once carried the news of this prophecy to King Antiphates, who, ready to do anything to vary the horrors of his solitary existence, though secretly doubting the efficacy of such attempts, disguised himself as a shepherd, and, unknown to his courtiers, accompanied his foster-brother to the cave.
Here, after observing the accustomed ceremonies of purification and prayer, Antiphates approached the sarcophagus, and kneeling beside it, craved some knowledge of his future fate, humbly demanding at the same time whether any sacrifice on his part would procure for him the priceless gift of sight.
Having made these inquiries, the reluctant monarch, had now to lay low his kingly head upon the breast of the long dead, and thus in a stifling and constrained att.i.tude await the much-desired response. Each moment seemed an age to the afflicted prince. All alone with these terrible emblems of mortality (for Antiphon remained without to guard the entrance of the cave) he listened for he knew not what.
At last there arose upon the still dank air, as if from echoing vaults beneath, an unearthly monotonous voice, chanting slowly the following words:
A mighty King is blind, And severed from his kind; In his proud breast broods dark unrest, No solace can he find.
The lands he calls his own, His kingdom and his throne, Are his by right; yet that fair sight Is kept from him alone.
Revolving decades pa.s.s, All flesh, we know, is gra.s.s; With whitening hair, the king sits there, He groweth old alas!
No joys of life are his, He tastes no wedded bliss; A monarch born, a man forlorn, Nor wife nor babe to kiss.
Far, 'mid the forest drear, A maiden without peer His fate shall hear, and wake with fear From dreams of little cheer.
By long and lonesome way Two loving hearts shall stray, That sovereign blind, in haste to find, And Fate's behest obey.
Yet guard thyself, oh king!