Part 12 (2/2)
Night after night, therefore, when the emissaries of the baffled sea-king strove to destroy the Castle by fire, the magic c.o.c.k, ever on the alert, flapped his wings and loudly proclaimed the approach of danger. Then Eudaemon arising from his lonely couch, wrestled in silent prayer until the first faint streaks of daylight in the eastern sky showed him that night's dominion was over. Thus baulked of his prey, Valbiorn withdrew in a terrible tempest to Thuisto, nor did his son again hear of him for many and many a long day.
A considerable period elapsed, during which Eudaemon grew apace in stature and in knowledge. He not only studied the many books of magic lore left to him, but he also learnt marvellous lessons from Nature herself. In his lonely isolation he had leisure to attend to what our common mother is ready to teach us all, would we but tarry awhile in our busy lives and hearken to her still small voice.
Separated by his birth and dwelling-place from mankind in general, Eudaemon strove to benefit the few he could befriend. The island people, as a rule, rarely beheld him. But in sickness or trouble they ever turned (tremblingly, it is true) to the Castle gate, where they waited while the trusty Donald apprised his master of the presence of the suppliants without.
Strange cures were wrought by the simple remedies Eudaemon compounded from the various herbs and minerals his mother had shown to him, or with which his studies had rendered him familiar. To seek these herbs at a propitious time, the youth issued from the Castle at dead of night, with his faithful Luachan, and traversed the hills till break of day, when, wearied, and full of sleep, he often, on his return, pa.s.sed the daylight hours in repose.
He was, moreover, a keen and unerring marksman, swift and sure of foot, and of iron nerve. The shuddering Highlanders sometimes marked his eager pursuit of the wild goats, which at that time abounded in the island. Master and hound seemed alike dauntless and fearless in the chase, and whether from his early love of climbing, or from his mixed descent, it is hard to say, but it is very certain that Eudaemon and his dog were often seen scrambling across the beetling crags that overhung the sea, in places where no human foot has trodden before or since. He and Luachan also knew where the golden eagle built her eyrie. He even caught and tamed a young nestling, which loved Castle Brochel as its home, and would only feed from her master's hand. With Donald's a.s.sistance moreover he had constructed a rude boat, in which they went forth occasionally to seek a portion of their subsistence by fis.h.i.+ng.
Pa.s.sionately fond of companions.h.i.+p, and denied that of his own fellows, Eudaemon, by dint of long perseverance, collected around him a motley variety of animals. Tame seals lived on the rocks below his dwelling.
In perfect security around and beneath the Castle walls roosted and nested a perfect colony of sea-birds. A little flock of goats amply supplied the three inhabitants with milk; while conies, blue hares, domestic fowls of various kinds, and last, but not least, serpents, from time immemorial the emblems of wisdom, throve and multiplied within the precincts or in close proximity to Eudaemon's home.
In those remote times, it is not surprising that old Donald, with his queer, misshapen figure, and solitary glaring eye, his youthful master, so wise beyond his years, and even the poor collie Luachan, whose sagacity was far above the average, were one and all regarded with some degree of superst.i.tious mistrust.
It was said, that in the little turret chamber, highest in the Castle wall, from which at night streamed forth a ruddy ray of light, Eudaemon held converse with visitants from another world, and that many a storm was concocted and wafted abroad by their dark agency.
While the young student strove anxiously to benefit the cases of sickness brought before him--sometimes, indeed, spending whole nights wrestling face to face with death, by the side of some poor peasant's bed--a few of the people were ungrateful enough to attribute his cures to magic art and to an unholy alliance with the powers of darkness.
Some humble hearts, however, throbbed with responsive grat.i.tude at the very mention of his name; and there was one mother who, though the King of Terrors had proved too powerful for his adversary's skill, never forgot the tear of sorrow that fell from the young man's eye, as, after long watching and many unavailing remedies, her bonnie bairn breathed out her innocent life in Eudaemon's arms.
His fame was gradually bruited abroad, and as years rolled on he became widely known as ”the Enchanter of the North.”
From all the surrounding districts the inhabitants flocked in boats to seek his advice. Fishermen asked for charms, to ensure a successful summer. Ere the sailors put to sea, they deemed themselves lucky if they could secure one of Eudaemon's so-called ”amulets” against disaster. These were, in reality, small bags manufactured and sold (in private) by the one-eyed seneschal, whose master would have been sorely displeased, had he discovered the chaffering trade driven in ”charms”
by the cunning old man, who thus rivalled Gehazi of ancient times!
Now it chanced that about this time there dwelt on the Lowland Borders, a King and Queen of Clutha, whose only daughter was afflicted with a terrible misfortune.
The Princess Miranda was beautiful as the day. Her parents, who had long lived in the bonds of matrimony without possessing any children, felt inexpressible joy as they welcomed their sweet little girl into the world. Bells were rung and bonfires lighted upon all the hills on either side of the river Clutha, which ran through her father's domains. Everything went on propitiously, until, in an hour of woe, it was discovered that the infant Princess could not speak!
This dire and unexpected calamity threw the whole Court, and indeed the nation at large, into deep distress. All, both high and low, heartily sympathized with the grief-stricken parents. Philosophers, astrologers, physicians, and wise women were each consulted in their turn; but all, alas! in vain. At last, in desperation, the unhappy parents even offered the hand and dowry of their daughter as a reward to any man who should be fortunate enough to set her tongue at liberty.
Years rolled on. The King and Queen were disappointed in their hope of other offspring. Their feelings became more and more bitter, as they reflected on the confusion that would inevitably arise, should they die, and the dumb Miranda be called to the throne. They feared, with reason, that wicked men might take advantage of the Princess's helpless condition, and wrest the crown and kingdom from her hands.
Amba.s.sadors from many surrounding countries were attracted by the beauty of Miranda's portraits, carefully and widely disseminated by her prudent mother. One by one, however, these envoys disappeared, on finding that the beautiful Princess, though possessed of every other charm, was dumb.
The King and Queen, to soften as far as possible their child's misfortune, gave orders that her play-mates and attendants were always to address her in writing. All at court were told to conceal from the Princess as much as possible the difference between her own condition and that of the maidens around her.
The consequence of these ill-judged regulations was that the Court of Clutha became almost as silent as the grave. Even musical instruments--with the exception of the fife and the drum, necessary for military and state occasions--were completely banished from the precincts of the palace, to save the youthful Miranda from discovering what it was to be without a voice for singing or speaking.
Under these circ.u.mstances it is not to be wondered at that foreign courtiers found King Murdoch's Court insufferably dull, especially as the lovely Princess, herself a prey to melancholy, spent the greater part of her time amid the wild moors and glens surrounding her father's castle, where at least she could uninterruptedly listen to the sounds of Nature. The sweet singing, or startled calls of the various birds, the rippling and murmuring of the rus.h.i.+ng waters, the ceaseless humming of the insects, the sighing of the wind among the leaves and branches of the trees--each and all she heard and learnt to love.
Among the amba.s.sadors referred to there was one representing a Prince, whose ardour could not be checked by the Princess's cruel misfortune.
Some short time before the period of which we speak, the King and Queen of Clutha, accompanied by their daughter, paid a visit to the Queen's sister, a powerful Princess in Ireland.
Left early a widow, Queen Hildegonda had long since forgotten all the softer charms of womanly nature. Forced, when hardly more than a girl herself, to protect her infant son, Prince Eochy, the heir to his father's wide domains, from the continued a.s.saults, not only of neighbouring chieftains, but also of rebellious and usurping subjects, she had become a very amazon. By her wise and judicious regency, she had secured a peaceful rule for her son. But when the time came for him to take his rightful place, the proud mother could not bring herself to resign the reins of power. Eochy, as effeminate and weak as his mother was masculine and daring, willingly yielded to her the responsibilities of government, and pa.s.sed his life in idle poetical dreams and frivolous amus.e.m.e.nts.
On Miranda's appearance, however, the susceptible Prince, as might have been expected, was captivated by his fair cousin's matchless beauty. In vain the maiden's parents bestowed upon Eochy their own approval. In vain the enamoured youth besought his mother to favour his suit.
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