your mother’s blows! Tell me, what do you do when you are wounded in battle? Do you cry like a baby when you see the blood flow?”
“If you were to hew me in pieces,” replied the Lombard, “painful as that would be, it would hurt me less than a tear or a sigh from my mother.”
“Well, good squire of dames,” continued the other, “it can at any rate do the ring no harm for me to look at it and touch it. I am in your power, am I not? Your sword is in your hand, and I am without a weapon.”
After a little hesitation the king consented to let the boy draw the ring from his finger; but scarcely was this done, when he vanished from before his eyes, suddenly and without warning. Ortnit felt bewildered. He heard the boy’s voice, now at a distance and now near, making sarcastic remarks on the beating his mother would give him when he went home, and finally announcing that he would pelt him with a few pebbles to show him how well he could do it. Ortnit defended himself for some time against the terrible storm of sharp stones that rained upon him, but at last, seeing that neither his great strength nor his sword were of any avail, he turned to his horse and prepared to ride away.
On perceiving this the hobgoblin exclaimed: “Wait a bit, friend Goodman. I am sorry to think of the stripes your mother will give you. Listen to me. I have many important things to talk to you about. If you will give me your royal word of honour that you will not revenge yourself for the trick I played you, I will give you back your ring.”
“Very well,” answered Ortnit, “I promise on my honour.”
“And if I go on to talk ill of your mother?”
“No,” cried the king, “I will never forgive that. You may say what you like about me, but my mother is the purest and most perfect of women.”
“I quite agree with you,” said the little creature; “you may listen to me without fearing that I shall slander her, for I am Alberich (Ælf-ric) king of the Dwarfs, and you and I are more nearly related than you think. I will tell you the truth; but first take back your ring. I trust to your word of honour.”
The moment Ortnit felt the ring in his hand, he slipped it back on his finger, and immediately saw the boy standing before him.
“You must know, great king,” pursued Alberich, “that you have to thank me for your land and people, castles, towns and victories, and also for your marvellous strength. Your predecessor, whom you call father, married, when he was an elderly man, the youthful sister of the prince of the wild Reussen. The marriage was childless. Husband and wife in vain prayed heaven for an heir. Your mother was the best and most virtuous woman in Lombardy, but she wore herself away with fretting about what would become of the country and herself when her husband died without an heir. She foresaw that the nation would be split into factions, that civil war would desolate the land, and that she herself might be chased from Lombardy, a homeless exile. I often heard her plaints when I entered her room unseen. The older the king grew, the more her anxiety increased; then—well, you must know it sooner or later—I became her second husband.”
“Monster, you lie!” shouted Ortnit, drawing a dagger from his side, but he could not use it, for the smiling boy looked up at him so fearlessly.
“Your anger is bootless,” he said. “You had better let me finish my story. Young as I look, I am five hundred years old; small as I am, and big and strong as you are, I am yet your father. I proposed to the king that he should secretly get a divorce from his wife and let her marry me. He consented, but she would not. She refused. She spent days and months in weeping, and only gave way at last when her husband insisted! She and I were married secretly by a priest. No one guessed what had happened, and when you were born you were supposed to be the old king’s son. I did not win my wife’s heart, however, until her first husband was dead. After that I used sometimes to bring her here; you and I played together among the flowers like two children, and I sang with the birds that wild song of theirs about the king of the wood, which your mother often sung to you again at Castle Garden. When you grew to be a man and a hero, I was often at your side unseen, while the battle raged all round you, and on those occasions I have often turned aside the point of some murderous weapon that threatened your life. When you cross the wild ocean, and strive to win the Moorish maiden for your wife, I will be there to help you. So long as you wear that ring on your finger, you have only to wish for me and you will see me. Now wait a few minutes; I am going to fetch the armour that no weapon can pierce, and the sword Rosen, which can cut through steel and iron, and even dragon’s scales.”
Ortnit felt as though in a dream. While he was still thinking over all that he had just heard, the sound of heavy steps, and the clanking of armour startled him out of his reverie. Turning round he saw Alberich, who with the help of a sturdy dwarf was bringing his promised gift. On the top of the silver helmet with gold enwrought, was a priceless diamond. The whole suit of mail was of marvellously beautiful workmanship, and sparkled with gems wherever gems should be. The sword was in a golden sheath, its handle was a shining carbuncle, and on the sharp steel blade were golden figures and the letters forming the king’s name.
Ortnit was amazed at the beauty of all he saw. He put on the armour, and it fitted him exactly. Then he picked his tiny father up in his strong arms and kissed him on his rosy mouth, and Alberich returned his embrace with much affection. As the king rode away, the last words he heard were, “Do not forget the importance of that ring. Never give it away. If you turn it on your finger, I will at once be with you.”
When Ortnit got home, he was received with joy by all his retainers; and his mother, who was watching for his arrival, signed to him to come to her. He instantly ran up the steps, and whispered as he kissed her, “I have come from father Alberich.”
“You know?” she asked, hiding her face on his shoulder.
“I know,” he answered, “that I love and honour my dear mother.”
May came at last. The army assembled and marched south through Tuscany, Rome and Naples, whence they embarked for Sicily, Messina being the place fixed on for the general meeting of all the forces. Arrived there, they found faithful Zacharis ready with his ship, in which he had stowed away, not only enough provisions for the voyage, but also merchandise, in case it should be wanted. Soon every man was on board, a favourable wind swelled the sails, and experienced seamen steered the ship through the wild sea.
After they had journeyed a long time, the welcome cry of “land” was heard from the mast-head, and soon afterwards those on deck had a distinct view of the shore and the wharfs of Tyre. But at this moment the skipper came up to the king and said:
“Sire, we are all lost. There is no wind to carry us past this place. They have sighted us already in the town, and will soon send out their pirate ships to chase us.”
“Come, nephew,” said Ylyas, “throw the cowardly dog overboard to drink brotherhood with the fishes. Have we not swords enough to defend ourselves from the Moors?”
“Sir,” replied the skipper, “the heathen will throw Greek fire on board. Neither sword nor shield can do aught against that. The ship will be burnt, and all the men either burnt therewith or drowned.”
No one knew what to advise, so all stood silent about the king. Suddenly a voice was heard from the mast-head:
“All arms below! Bring up the merchandise, and let the sails be reefed, lest the enemy guess that we thought of flight.”
“Hey-day! It is Alberich,” said Ortnit; “how could I have forgotten him?”
He looked up and saw the king of the dwarfs slipping rapidly down the mast to the deck. In another moment he was at his side.
“You
