The Princess and the Goblin
an evening they were home a full hour before the sunlight had left the
weather-cock on the stables. If it had not been for such odd behaviour
Irene would by this time have almost forgotten the goblins. She never
forgot Curdie, but him she remembered for his own sake, and indeed
would have remembered him if only because a princess never forgets her
debts until they are paid.
One splendid sunshiny day, about an hour after noon, Irene, who was
playing on a lawn in the garden, heard the distant blast of a bugle.
She jumped up with a cry of joy, for she knew by that particular blast
that her father was on his way to see her. This part of the garden lay
on the slope of the hill and allowed a full view of the country below.
So she shaded her eyes with her hand and looked far away to catch the
first glimpse of shining armour. In a few moments a little troop came
glittering round the shoulder of a hill. Spears and helmets were
sparkling and gleaming, banners were flying, horses prancing, and again
came the bugle-blast which was to her like the voice of her father
calling across the distance: 'Irene, I'm coming.'
On and on they came until she could clearly distinguish the king. He
rode a white horse and was taller than any of the men with him. He wore
a narrow circle of gold set with jewels around his helmet, and as he
came still nearer Irene could discern the flashing of the stones in the
sun. It was a long time since he had been to see her, and her little
heart beat faster and faster as the shining troop approached, for she
loved her king-papa very dearly and was nowhere so happy as in his
arms. When they reached a certain point, after which she could see
them no more from the garden, she ran to the gate, and there stood till
up they came, clanging and stamping, with one more bright bugle-blast
which said: 'Irene, I am come.'
By this time the people of the house were all gathered at the gate, but
Irene stood alone in front of them. When the horsemen pulled up she
ran to the side of the white horse and held up her arms. The king
stopped and took her hands. In an instant she was on the saddle and
clasped in his great strong arms.
I wish I could describe the king so that you could see him in your
mind. He had gentle, blue eyes, but a nose that made him look like an
eagle. A long dark beard, streaked with silvery lines, flowed from his
mouth almost to his waist, and as Irene sat on the saddle and hid her
glad face upon his bosom it mingled with the golden hair which her
mother had given her, and the two together were like a cloud with
streaks of the sun woven through it. After he had held her to his
heart for a minute he spoke to his white horse, and the great beautiful
creature, which had been prancing so proudly a little while before,
walked as gently as a lady--for he knew he had a little lady on his
back--through the gate and up to the door of the house. Then the king
set her on the ground and, dismounting, took her hand and walked with
her into the great hall, which was hardly ever entered except when he
came to see his little princess. There he sat down, with two of his
counsellors who had accompanied him, to have some refreshment, and
Irene sat on his right hand and drank her milk out of a wooden bowl
curiously carved.
After the king had eaten and drunk he turned to the princess and said,
stroking her hair:
'Now, my child, what shall we do next?'
This was the question he almost always put to her first after their
meal together; and Irene had been waiting for it with some impatience,
for now, she thought, she should be able to settle a question which
constantly perplexed her.
'I should like you to take me to see my great old grandmother.'
The king looked grave And said:
'What does my little daughter mean?'
'I mean the Queen Irene that lives up in the tower--the very old lady,
you know, with the long hair of silver.'
The king only gazed at his little princess with a look which she could
not understand.
'She's got her crown in her bedroom,' she went on; 'but I've not been
in there yet. You know she's there, don't you?'
'No,' said the king, very quietly.
'Then it must all be a dream,' said Irene. 'I half thought it was; but
I couldn't be sure. Now I am sure of it. Besides, I couldn't find her
the next time I went up.'
At that moment a snow-white pigeon flew in at an open window and
settled upon Irene's head. She broke into a merry laugh, cowered a
little, and put up her hands to her head, saying:
'Dear dovey, don't peck me. You'll pull out my hair with your long
claws if you don't mind.'
The king stretched out his hand to take the pigeon, but it spread its
wings and flew again through the open window, when its Whiteness made
one flash in the sun and vanished. The king laid his hand on his
princess's head, held it back a little, gazed in her face, smiled half
a smile, and sighed half a sigh.
'Come, my child; we'll have a walk in the garden together,' he said.
'You won't come up and see my huge, great, beautiful grandmother, then,
king-papa?' said the princess.
'Not this time,' said the king very gently. 'She has not invited me,
you know, and great old ladies like her do not choose to be visited
without leave asked and given.'
The garden was a very lovely place. Being upon a Mountainside there
were parts in it where the rocks came through in great masses, and all
immediately about them remained quite wild. Tufts of heather grew upon
them, and other hardy mountain plants and flowers, while near them
would be lovely roses and lilies and all pleasant garden flowers. This
mingling of the wild mountain with the civilized garden was very
quaint, and it was impossible for any number of gardeners to make such
a garden look formal and stiff.
Against one of these rocks was a garden seat, shadowed from the
afternoon sun by the overhanging of the rock itself. There was a
little winding path up to the top of the rock, and on top another seat;
but they sat on the seat at its foot because the sun was hot; and there
they talked together of many things. At length the king said:
'You were out late one evening, Irene.'
'Yes, papa. It was my fault; and Lootie was very sorry.'
'I must talk to Lootie about it,' said the king.
'Don't speak loud to her, please, papa,' said Irene. 'She's been so
afraid of being late ever since! Indeed she has not been naughty. It
was only a mistake for once.'
'Once might be too often,' murmured the king to himself, as he stroked
his child's head.
I can't tell you how he had come to know. I am sure Curdie had not
told him. Someone about the palace must have seen them, after all.
He sat for a good while thinking. There was no sound to be heard
except that of a little stream which ran merrily out of an opening in
the rock by where they sat, and sped away down the hill through the
garden. Then he rose and, leaving Irene where she was, went into the
house and sent for Lootie, with whom he had a talk that made her cry.
When in the evening he rode away upon his great white horse, he left
six of his attendants behind him, with orders that three of them should
watch outside the house every night, walking round and round it from
sunset to sunrise. It was clear he was not quite comfortable about the
princess.
CHAPTER 11
The Old Lady's Bedroom
Nothing more happened worth telling for some time. The autumn came and
went by. There were no more flowers in the garden. The wind blew
strong, and howled among the rocks. The rain fell, and drenched the
few yellow and red leaves that could not get off the bare branches.
Again and again there would be a glorious morning followed by a pouring
afternoon, and sometimes, for a week together, there would be rain,
nothing but rain, all day, and then the most lovely cloudless night,
with the sky all out in full-blown stars--not one missing. But the
princess could not see much of them, for she went to bed early. The
winter drew on, and she found things growing dreary. When it was too
stormy to go out, and she had got tired of her toys, Lootie would take
her about the house, sometimes to the housekeeper's room, where the
housekeeper, who was a good, kind old woman, made much of
her--sometimes to the servants' hall or the kitchen, where she was not
princess merely, but absolute queen, and ran a great risk of being
spoiled. Sometimes she would run off herself to the room where the
men-at-arms whom the king had left sat, and they showed her their arms
and accoutrements and did what they could to amuse her. Still at times
she found it very dreary, and often and often wished that her huge
great grandmother had not been a dream.
One morning the nurse left her with the housekeeper for a while. To
amuse her she turned out the contents of an old cabinet upon the table.
The little princess found her treasures, queer ancient ornaments, and
many things the use of which she could not imagine, far more
interesting than her own toys, and sat playing with them for two hours
or more. But, at length, in handling a curious old-fashioned brooch,
she ran the pin of it into her thumb, and gave a little scream with the
sharpness of the pain, but would have thought little more of it had not
the pain increased and her thumb begun to swell. This alarmed the
housekeeper greatly. The nurse was fetched; the doctor was sent for;
her hand was poulticed, and long before her usual time she was put to
bed. The pain still continued, and although she fell asleep and
dreamed a good many dreams, there was the pain always in every dream.
At last it woke her up.
The moon was shining brightly into the room. The poultice had fallen
off her hand and it was burning hot. She fancied if she could hold it
into the moonlight that would cool it. So she got out of bed, without
waking the nurse who lay at the other end of the room, and went to the
window. When she looked out she saw one of the men-at-arms walking in
the garden with the moonlight glancing on his armour. She was just
going to tap on the window and call him, for she wanted to tell him all
about it, when she bethought herself that that might wake Lootie, and
she would put her into her bed again. So she resolved to go to the
window of another room, and call him from there. It was so much nicer
to have somebody to talk to than to lie awake in bed with the burning
pain in her hand. She opened the door very gently and went through the
nursery, which did not look into the garden, to go to the other window.
But when she came to the foot of the old staircase there was the moon
shining down from some window high up, and making the worm-eaten oak
look very strange and delicate and lovely. In a moment she was putting
her little feet one after the other in the silvery path up the stair,
looking behind as she went, to see the shadow they made in the middle
of the silver. Some little girls would have been afraid to find
themselves thus alone in the middle of the night, but Irene was a
princess.
As she went slowly up the stair, not quite sure that she was not
dreaming, suddenly a great longing woke up in her heart to try once
more whether she could not find the old lady with the silvery hair. 'If
she is a dream,' she said to herself, 'then I am the likelier to find
her, if I am dreaming.'
So up and up she went, stair after stair, until she came to the many
rooms--all just as she had seen them before. Through passage after
passage she softly sped, comforting herself that if she should lose her
way it would not matter much, because when she woke she would find
herself in her own bed with Lootie not far off. But, as if she had
known every step of the way, she walked straight to the door at the