Three short works | Page 5

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On the other side were the kennel, the stables, the bakery, the
wine-press and the barns. Around these spread a pasture, also enclosed
by a strong hedge.
Peace had reigned so long that the portcullis was never lowered; the
moats were filled with water; swallows built their nests in the cracks of
the battlements, and as soon as the sun shone too strongly, the archer
who all day long paced to and fro on the curtain, withdrew to the
watch-tower and slept soundly.
Inside the castle, the locks on the doors shone brightly; costly tapestries
hung in the apartments to keep out the cold; the closets overflowed
with linen, the cellar was filled with casks of wine, and the oak chests
fairly groaned under the weight of money-bags.
In the armoury could be seen, between banners and the heads of wild
beasts, weapons of all nations and of all ages, from the slings of the
Amalekites and the javelins of the Garamantes, to the broad-swords of
the Saracens and the coats of mail of the Normans.
The largest spit in the kitchen could hold an ox; the chapel was as
gorgeous as a king's oratory. There was even a Roman bath in a
secluded part of the castle, though the good lord of the manor refrained
from using it, as he deemed it a heathenish practice.
Wrapped always in a cape made of fox-skins, he wandered about the
castle, rendered justice among his vassals and settled his neighbours'
quarrels. In the winter, he gazed dreamily at the falling snow, or had
stories read aloud to him. But as soon as the fine weather returned, he
would mount his mule and sally forth into the country roads, edged
with ripening wheat, to talk with the peasants, to whom he distributed
advice. After a number of adventures he took unto himself a wife of
high lineage.
She was pale and serious, and a trifle haughty. The horns of her
head-dress touched the top of the doors and the hem of her gown trailed
far behind her. She conducted her household like a cloister. Every
morning she distributed work to the maids, supervised the making of

preserves and unguents, and afterwards passed her time in spinning, or
in embroidering altar-cloths. In response to her fervent prayers, God
granted her a son!
Then there was great rejoicing; and they gave a feast which lasted three
days and four nights, with illuminations and soft music. Chickens as
large as sheep, and the rarest spices were served; for the entertainment
of the guests, a dwarf crept out of a pie; and when the bowls were too
few, for the crowd swelled continuously, the wine was drunk from
helmets and hunting-horns.
The young mother did not appear at the feast. She was quietly resting in
bed. One night she awoke, and beheld in a moonbeam that crept
through the window something that looked like a moving shadow. It
was an old man clad in sackcloth, who resembled a hermit. A rosary
dangled at his side and he carried a beggar's sack on his shoulder. He
approached the foot of the bed, and without opening his lips said:
"Rejoice, O mother! Thy son shall be a saint."
She would have cried out, but the old man, gliding along the
moonbeam, rose through the air and disappeared. The songs of the
banqueters grew louder. She could hear angels' voices, and her head
sank back on the pillow, which was surmounted by the bone of a
martyr, framed in precious stones.
The following day, the servants, upon being questioned, declared, to a
man, that they had seen no hermit. Then, whether dream or fact, this
must certainly have been a communication from heaven; but she took
care not to speak of it, lest she should be accused of presumption.
The guests departed at daybreak, and Julian's father stood at the castle
gate, where he had just bidden farewell to the last one, when a beggar
suddenly emerged from the mist and confronted him. He was a
gipsy--for he had a braided beard and wore silver bracelets on each arm.
His eyes burned and, in an inspired way, he muttered some
disconnected words: "Ah! Ah! thy son!--great bloodshed--great
glory--happy always--an emperor's family."

Then he stooped to pick up the alms thrown to him, and disappeared in
the tall grass.
The lord of the manor looked up and down the road and called as
loudly as he could. But no one answered him! The wind only howled
and the morning mists were fast dissolving.
He attributed his vision to a dullness of the brain resulting from too
much sleep. "If I should speak of it," quoth he, "people would laugh at
me." Still, the glory that was to be his son's dazzled him, albeit