The Secret Rose Read online

  THE WISDOM OF THE KING.

  The High-Queen of the Island of Woods had died in childbirth, andher child was put to nurse with a woman who lived in a hut of mud andwicker, within the border of the wood. One night the woman sat rockingthe cradle, and pondering over the beauty of the child, and praying thatthe gods might grant him wisdom equal to his beauty. There came a knockat the door, and she got up, not a little wondering, for the nearestneighbours were in the dun of the High-King a mile away; and the nightwas now late. 'Who is knocking?' she cried, and a thin voice answered,'Open! for I am a crone of the grey hawk, and I come from the darknessof the great wood.' In terror she drew back the bolt, and a grey-cladwoman, of a great age, and of a height more than human, came in andstood by the head of the cradle. The nurse shrank back against the wall,unable to take her eyes from the woman, for she saw by the gleamingof the firelight that the feathers of the grey hawk were upon her headinstead of hair. But the child slept, and the fire danced, for theone was too ignorant and the other too full of gaiety to know what adreadful being stood there. 'Open!' cried another voice, 'for I am acrone of the grey hawk, and I watch over his nest in the darkness of thegreat wood.' The nurse opened the door again, though her fingers couldscarce hold the bolts for trembling, and another grey woman, not lessold than the other, and with like feathers instead of hair, came in andstood by the first. In a little, came a third grey woman, and after hera fourth, and then another and another and another, until the hut wasfull of their immense bodies. They stood a long time in perfect silenceand stillness, for they were of those whom the dropping of the sand hasnever troubled, but at last one muttered in a low thin voice: 'Sisters,I knew him far away by the redness of his heart under his silver skin';and then another spoke: 'Sisters, I knew him because his heart flutteredlike a bird under a net of silver cords '; and then another took up theword: 'Sisters, I knew him because his heart sang like a bird that ishappy in a silver cage.' And after that they sang together, those whowere nearest rocking the cradle with long wrinkled fingers; and theirvoices were now tender and caressing, now like the wind blowing in thegreat wood, and this was their song:

  Out of sight is out of mind: Long have man and woman-kind, Heavy of will and light of mood, Taken away our wheaten food, Taken away our Altar stone; Hail and rain and thunder alone, And red hearts we turn to grey, Are true till Time gutter away.

  When the song had died out, the crone who had first spoken, said: 'Wehave nothing more to do but to mix a drop of our blood into his blood.'And she scratched her arm with the sharp point of a spindle, which shehad made the nurse bring to her, and let a drop of blood, grey as themist, fall upon the lips of the child; and passed out into the darkness.Then the others passed out in silence one by one; and all the while thechild had not opened his pink eyelids or the fire ceased to dance, forthe one was too ignorant and the other too full of gaiety to know whatgreat beings had bent over the cradle.

  When the crones were gone, the nurse came to her courage again, andhurried to the dun of the High-King, and cried out in the midst of theassembly hall that the Sidhe, whether for good or evil she knew not, hadbent over the child that night; and the king and his poets and men oflaw, and his huntsmen, and his cooks, and his chief warriors went withher to the hut and gathered about the cradle, and were as noisy asmagpies, and the child sat up and looked at them.

  Two years passed over, and the king died fighting against the Fer Bolg;and the poets and the men of law ruled in the name of the child, butlooked to see him become the master himself before long, for no onehad seen so wise a child, and tales of his endless questions aboutthe household of the gods and the making of the world went hither andthither among the wicker houses of the poor. Everything had been wellbut for a miracle that began to trouble all men; and all women, who,indeed, talked of it without ceasing. The feathers of the grey hawkhad begun to grow in the child's hair, and though, his nurse cut themcontinually, in but a little while they would be more numerous thanever. This had not been a matter of great moment, for miracles were alittle thing in those days, but for an ancient law of Eri that none whohad any blemish of body could sit upon the throne; and as a greyhawk was a wild thing of the air which had never sat at the board, orlistened to the songs of the poets in the light of the fire, it was notpossible to think of one in whose hair its feathers grew as other thanmarred and blasted; nor could the people separate from their admirationof the wisdom that grew in him a horror as at one of unhuman blood. Yetall were resolved that he should reign, for they had suffered much fromfoolish kings and their own disorders, and moreover they desired towatch out the spectacle of his days; and no one had any other fear butthat his great wisdom might bid him obey the law, and call some other,who had but a common mind, to reign in his stead.

  When the child was seven years old the poets and the men of law werecalled together by the chief poet, and all these matters weighed andconsidered. The child had already seen that those about him had haironly, and, though they had told him that they too had had feathers buthad lost them because of a sin committed by their forefathers, they knewthat he would learn the truth when he began to wander into the countryround about. After much consideration they decreed a new law commandingevery one upon pain of death to mingle artificially the feathers of thegrey hawk into his hair; and they sent men with nets and slings and bowsinto the countries round about to gather a sufficiency of feathers. Theydecreed also that any who told the truth to the child should be flungfrom a cliff into the sea.

  The years passed, and the child grew from childhood into boyhood andfrom boyhood into manhood, and from being curious about all thingshe became busy with strange and subtle thoughts which came to him indreams, and with distinctions between things long held the same andwith the resemblance of things long held different. Multitudes came fromother lands to see him and to ask his counsel, but there were guards setat the frontiers, who compelled all that came to wear the feathers ofthe grey hawk in their hair. While they listened to him his words seemedto make all darkness light and filled their hearts like music; but,alas, when they returned to their own lands his words seemed far off,and what they could remember too strange and subtle to help them to liveout their hasty days. A number indeed did live differently afterwards,but their new life was less excellent than the old: some among them hadlong served a good cause, but when they heard him praise it and theirlabour, they returned to their own lands to find what they had lovedless lovable and their arm lighter in the battle, for he had taught themhow little a hair divides the false and true; others, again, whohad served no cause, but wrought in peace the welfare of their ownhouseholds, when he had expounded the meaning of their purpose, foundtheir bones softer and their will less ready for toil, for he had shownthem greater purposes; and numbers of the young, when they had heard himupon all these things, remembered certain words that became like a firein their hearts, and made all kindly joys and traffic between man andman as nothing, and went different ways, but all into vague regret.

  When any asked him concerning the common things of life; disputes aboutthe mear of a territory, or about the straying of cattle, or about thepenalty of blood; he would turn to those nearest him for advice; butthis was held to be from courtesy, for none knew that these matters werehidden from him by thoughts and dreams that filled his mind like themarching and counter-marching of armies. Far less could any know thathis heart wandered lost amid throngs of overcoming thoughts and dreams,shuddering at its own consuming solitude.

  Among those who came to look at him and to listen to him was thedaughter of a little king who lived a great way off; and when he saw herhe loved, for she was beautiful, with a strange and pale beauty unlikethe women of his land; but Dana, the great mother, had decreed her aheart that was but as the heart of others, and when she considered themystery of the hawk feathers she was troubled with a great horror. Hecalled her to him when the assembly was over and told her of her beauty,and praised her simply and frankly as though she were a fable of
thebards; and he asked her humbly to give him her love, for he wasonly subtle in his dreams. Overwhelmed with his greatness, she halfconsented, and yet half refused, for she longed to marry some warriorwho could carry her over a mountain in his arms. Day by day the kinggave her gifts; cups with ears of gold and findrinny wrought by thecraftsmen of distant lands; cloth from over sea, which, though wovenwith curious figures, seemed to her less beautiful than the bright clothof her own country; and still she was ever between a smile and a frown;between yielding and withholding. He laid down his wisdom at her feet,and told how the heroes when they die return to the world and begintheir labour anew; how the kind and mirthful Men of Dea drove out thehuge and gloomy and misshapen People from Under the Sea; and a multitudeof things that even the Sidhe have forgotten, either because theyhappened so long ago or because they have not time to think of them; andstill she half refused, and still he hoped, because he could not believethat a beauty so much like wisdom could hide a common heart.

  There was a tall young man in the dun who had yellow hair, and wasskilled in wrestling and in the training of horses; and one day when theking walked in the orchard, which was between the foss and the forest,he heard his voice among the salley bushes which hid the waters of thefoss. 'My blossom,' it said, 'I hate them for making you weave thesedingy feathers into your beautiful hair, and all that the bird of preyupon the throne may sleep easy o' nights'; and then the low, musicalvoice he loved answered: 'My hair is not beautiful like yours; and nowthat I have plucked the feathers out of your hair I will put my handsthrough it, thus, and thus, and thus; for it casts no shadow of terrorand darkness upon my heart.' Then the king remembered many things thathe had forgotten without understanding them, doubtful words of his poetsand his men of law, doubts that he had reasoned away, his own continualsolitude; and he called to the lovers in a trembling voice. They camefrom among the salley bushes and threw themselves at his feet and prayedfor pardon, and he stooped down and plucked the feathers out of the hairof the woman and then turned away towards the dun without a word. Hestrode into the hall of assembly, and having gathered his poets and hismen of law about him, stood upon the dais and spoke in a loud, clearvoice: 'Men of law, why did you make me sin against the laws of Eri? Menof verse, why did you make me sin against the secrecy of wisdom, for lawwas made by man for the welfare of man, but wisdom the gods have made,and no man shall live by its light, for it and the hail and the rain andthe thunder follow a way that is deadly to mortal things? Men of law andmen of verse, live according to your kind, and call Eocha of the HastyMind to reign over you, for I set out to find my kindred.' He then camedown among them, and drew out of the hair of first one and then anotherthe feathers of the grey hawk, and, having scattered them over therushes upon the floor, passed out, and none dared to follow him, forhis eyes gleamed like the eyes of the birds of prey; and no man saw himagain or heard his voice. Some believed that he found his eternal abodeamong the demons, and some that he dwelt henceforth with the dark anddreadful goddesses, who sit all night about the pools in the forestwatching the constellations rising and setting in those desolatemirrors.