The entertaining story of King Brondé, his Lily and his Rosebud

NOW these were the orders which Magnus had given to his company.

First, no blood must be shed. King Brondé’s men were to be carried off prisoners to his strong castle, in a far country,—an immense castle, whose walls were of such thickness, and so well defended, that the king of the country himself dared not attack it. The ladies of the court were also to be taken to the castle, and even their children. For all these prisoners, Magnus expected that heavy ransoms would be offered in silver and gold. King Brondé, loaded with chains, would be confined in the cave, until Magnus should decide the manner of his death. As for the lower people, the wood-cutters, foresters, laborers, they must also be carried off with the rest, as laboring men were much needed at the castle.

But in the first place Magnus sent a message to the powerful band he had left behind, commanding that one hundred of his strongest, boldest men, well armed, should come to him without delay.

As soon as this order was received, one hundred strong, bold men, well armed, mounted their fleetest horses, and rode night and day until they reached the cave.

Spies were then sent out, with orders to watch the movements of King Brondé, and to give timely notice whenever he should go forth to hunt.

But a whole week passed, and still the wished-for notice was not given.

“King Brondé is weary of hunting deer,” said one of the men, as they were gathered, one evening, in the cave.

“If that be so,” cried Magnus, “why, we can easily manage a lion or two.”

He then made a sign to one of his men, who suddenly gave such a terrible roar that the whole company sprang to their feet, thinking there was surely a lion near.

Magnus then took some skins, and had them stuffed so well that they might easily, at a distance, be taken for lions.

Not long after this the most terrible roarings were heard in the forest, and on several occasions, when the wood-cutters were walking homeward at twilight, the stuffed lions were popped out so suddenly before them, with such awful roarings, that they ran home almost out of their wits, and with scarcely breath enough to tell the story.

This trick of the robbers accomplished their purpose. The wood-cutter, with his story, startled the whole court. All were eager to join the lion hunt; and, in an hour’s time after the alarm was given, lords, high captains, knights, squires, pages, foresters, woodmen, were scouring the forest in every direction.

It was a fine, breezy day. The skies were clear, the sun shone brightly, birds sang sweetly. The horses were fleet, the hearts of the huntsmen were light and gay. Baying of hounds, merry shouts and bugle calls, resounded through the forest.

Orders had been given that at midday all should assemble at Daisy Hollow, there to report progress, and to partake of the refreshment which must at that time be needed.

Accordingly, at the time appointed, they began to appear, one after another, at this rendezvous, and to relate their adventures.

It seemed that but little had been done. One had seen a tail, another a head, many had heard roarings, and many had neither seen nor heard anything at all. Provisions were spread upon the grass, and, after eating and drinking, the whole company joined in singing a hunting-song.

Meanwhile, Magnus’s men had quietly formed a circle around the Hollow, and were eagerly awaiting from their leader the signal to advance. Magnus had ordered that each should select his man, he himself taking King Brondé. But knowing that the strength of his rival fully equalled his own, he had selected from the company ten stout men to assist him.

While the hunting party were gayly eating and drinking, the circle had been gradually closing around them. As soon as the singing began, Magnus waved his sword. This was the signal agreed upon, and the wild crew crept stealthily forward among the trees, now flat upon the grass, now over rocks, and now forcing with their swords a way through tangled thickets.

And at last, just as the chorus of the merry band rang loudly and cheerily out, they burst with loud cries from the wood, and in an instant each one of the hunters found himself laid prostrate upon the ground, a powerful foot upon his breast, a sharp knife at his throat. And so quickly and so skilfully was this accomplished, that hardly a single drop of blood had been shed.

The moment that King Brondé saw the powerful form bending over him, he knew well who was his enemy. Exerting all his immense strength, he endeavored to set himself free. But Magnus was armed, and had strength fully equal to his own. He was also assisted by the ten picked men.

King Brondé, recollecting the little vial hanging at his neck, contrived to draw it forth, and was in the act of drawing out the cork with his teeth, when Magnus, who knew its contents, snatched it away, at the same time breaking the cord.

But in the contest the little vial fell to the ground. Magnus vainly sought it, for one of Brondé’s men, who had in some way escaped from his captor, very cunningly, with the tip of his sword, rolled it under a plantain-leaf. When the search was over, he hid it in his bosom, and amid the confusion contrived to make his way unnoticed to the woods, and so escaped.

King Brondé and his men were taken to the cave, and there made to exchange clothes with their captors. Magnus cut off King Brondé’s fair curls, and covered with them his own coarse black locks, that the Lily Queen might suppose him to be the real Brondé.

The robbers then, clothed in the garments of their prisoners, and bearing their bows and spears, marched boldly to the palace. Now the queen and all her ladies were met upon the Velvet Lawn, near the palace, where they were amusing themselves by shooting at a mark. They wore dresses of pure white, their heads were adorned with wreaths of flowers, and about their waists were green garlands. Their arrows were silver-tipped, and their bows decked with ribbons. But the dress of Rosebud was green, besprinkled with diamonds like dew-drops on the grass. For she was always dressed in this color, in remembrance of the Green Fairy.

The robbers approached, amid the winding of horns and bugle-blasts.

“Ah!” cried Rosebud, “I see my stout, handsome father coming!” And she was off like an arrow to meet him.

“Ah, yes!” cried the queen; “there are my Brondé’s fair curls. And there is the red feather I placed this morning in his cap!”

Ah, poor Rosebud! And ah, poor Lily Queen! In one short hour after this, queen, ladies, servants, children, laborers,—all were prisoners! All bound, and on their way to some gloomy castle belonging to Magnus. Also the costly treasures of the palace, the gold, the jewels, the ermine robes,—everything of value which could be taken.

One precious thing only was left, and this precious thing was the king’s Rosebud.

It happened in this way.

Rosebud, with outstretched arms, ran to meet her father, her face beaming with joy, her heart brimming over with love for him. He had returned!—returned safe! Nothing had happened to him in the forest.

“Dear, dear father!” she cried.

As we all know, however, it was not really her father, but the wicked Magnus.

Now, when this wicked Magnus looked down into the face of Rosebud, he beheld there something which he never saw before. He had seen courage, he had seen strength, he had seen bravery; but a deep, o’erflowing love, like that expressed in the flushed and beaming face before him, he had never yet known.

And while he secured her as his prisoner, and saw her tears, and the horror and affright with which she regarded him, he felt a strange desire creeping into his heart to bring back that same look again; and, more than this, to have that beautiful look meant, really meant, for himself. That grim, bad man actually felt that the love of a little child would be a pleasant thing to have!

“Very soon,” said he to himself, “she will have neither father nor mother. I can very well manage that. I will then provide for her a beautiful abode, and give her many pretty things, gay toys, fine clothes, and she shall call me father. And when I come home she will run with outstretched arms, and with a shining face, and will say, ‘Dear, dear father!’”

Rosebud, therefore, was not sent away with the rest, but was placed on a bed, in an upper chamber, all by herself, with the door locked.

And in the middle of the night there came a stout man into the chamber, who lifted her from the bed, saying:—

“I am sent by the great Magnus. You need not struggle, for I am strong; nor cry aloud, for there are none to hear you; and you need not fear, for no harm will befall you.”

So Rosebud lay quite still in his arms, like a wounded bird, while he trudged stoutly on, till they came to a place in the woods where stood three men by a litter. Into this litter Rosebud was placed, and the four men, each bearing one end of a pole, went on as rapidly as the path would admit.

On they travelled, day after day, a weary, weary way. But Rosebud cared little for weariness. She mourned for her father, whose fate was not known to her, and for her mother in the power of that cruel man.

But so tender and so full of love was her little heart, that she could not help pitying the men who had to carry her so far. And she spoke so gently, and smiled so sweetly, in the midst of her grief, that even those wild robbers were softened. They moved her tenderly, they placed soft furs about her, and plucked, now and then, some pretty flower which grew by the wayside, well pleased if she but smiled in return.

And one of these, the guide, whose name was Rupert, resolved that Rosebud should not be taken to Magnus, but that he himself would keep her for his own. He had once been a simple-minded, laboring man, and had joined the robbers only from being pressed by poverty. What though outwardly rough and ungainly, his heart was kind, and so wholly drawn to Rosebud, that he could not see her come to harm. He was weary of roving, weary of strife. He would quit the castle, and in some other kingdom would lead an honest life; and Rosebud should be his own child, his pleasant little companion. He would go forth mornings, to work for food; she would tidy up the house and welcome him back with smiles.

Now this fine little plan was not fully carried out. A beginning, however, was made, as will now be related.

One night, after weeks of weary journeying,—not in the direction of the castle, however, Rupert had seen to that,—after weeks of weary journeying, they stopped by the edge of a wood for a few hours’ sleep. Rosebud was lying in her litter, upon the ground. A lion-skin was thrown over her, as a protection from the night dews.

She heard the deep breathing of the men around her, and knew that they were asleep. And as she lay there, quite still, looking up through the branches at the twinkling stars, listening to the rustling of the leaves as the night wind blew over them, she heard, so it seemed to her, a whispering or murmuring voice, which appeared to come from a tall, flowering shrub growing near, whose blossoms were white in the moonlight.

A soft, silvery voice it was, but Rosebud, listening carefully, could distinguish words like these:—

Rosebud opened wide her eyes to make sure it was not a dream. But no, there were the stars, the rustling leaves, and the sleeping men around her.

Presently a whiskered face was brought close to her own, and a voice whispered, “Do not speak; I am your true friend.” She then felt herself lifted up and borne swiftly through the bushes.

After some time, she was laid gently upon the ground and felt herself sinking, sinking, very slowly, into a deep hole in the earth. But the bottom was covered thick with leaves and soft grass; Rosebud, therefore, was not at all hurt, but very much frightened; for why should a true friend bury her up?

Rupert, for it was he who was the true friend, then drew a fallen tree over the hole, in such a manner that the air could easily make its way through, and then, with all speed, he joined his comrades by the edge of the woods. He lay quietly down among them, and, being very tired from the long journey, fell sound asleep.

At daylight he was aroused by the voices of his companions calling upon him to rise quickly and help to find their little prisoner, who had escaped, or had been carried away, during the night. Rupert then ran eagerly about among the trees, taking care to go always in the wrong direction.

After long searching, they became weary and resolved to seek no longer. For, said they, whatever may be her fate, the child cannot fare worse than if in the hands of Magnus.

But, in order to escape his anger, they agreed to leave the country and never return.

Now Rupert, as soon as the other three were at a safe distance, ran quickly to release Rosebud. She was fast asleep!

Some miles distant, close by the sea-shore, dwelt an old woman, who, in her youth, had been the friend of Rupert’s mother; and it was in her care that for the present he had determined to leave Rosebud. He remained in the woods through the day, and at night took his little girl in his arms, and carried her safely to the hut of this old woman. It was his plan to leave her here, while he sought, in some distant country, employment by which to support both her and himself. He would then claim and keep her for his own.

So Rosebud was left in the hut by the sea-shore, where she had some truly wonderful adventures, all of which will be told at a proper time. We must now see what became of King Brondé, whom we left with his men in the Robbers’ Cave.