The Little Prince of the Lake ⋆ King Arthur and His Knights (B. Winder)

This is a chapter of King Arthur and His Knights by Blanche Winder.

After the day when King Arthur and King Pellinore and Sir Gawaine had followed the elfin hunt into the heart of Fairyland, most wonderful adventures began to happen, not only to them, but to all the other knights of the Round Table. To brave the mysterious dangers of the Enchanted Forest, and the Castle Perilous, and the Valley of No Return, was the greatest sign of courage that anyone could show. So, of course, when the king came back again and told of the things that he had seen and heard, every one of his followers wanted to go into Fairyland and see these marvels for themselves. One by one they went, and, on their return, told the story of their adventures. The fame of Arthur’s fearless knights was soon spread far and wide. Every brave and romantic youth wanted to come and make his vow of fealty to the great king who was the head of such a gallant company. And among these youths was a prince called Lancelot, who had spent all his childhood in Fairyland, in a way that you shall read about.

He was the son of a great king named Ban, whose castle was built in a valley between two mountain ranges. When Lancelot was only a little baby, a neighboring king, called Claudas, came riding one day over the eastern range with an enormous army behind him. This great, glittering army set up its tents all around King Ban’s castle and prepared to besiege it. For a long time King Ban and his soldiers held out against King Claudas and the big army; but, at last, they had to give in.

So then King Ban sent a messenger to King Claudas asking leave for himself, and the queen, and their little son to leave their home and to go and place themselves under the protection of the great King Arthur. Claudas consented, but only on condition that the castle was handed over to him immediately. So poor King Ban handed over his castle and set off very, very sorrowfully, on a big horse, with the weeping queen in the saddle behind him. On a second horse rode just one faithful servant, carrying the baby prince, Lancelot.

They rode a little way down the valley, and then King Ban said he could not bear to leave his beautiful castle without one look at it from the top of the nearest hill. So the queen took the baby into her arms and sat down by the side of a beautiful clear lake; while the king and the faithful servant rode together to the top of the mountain.

For a long time, after the sound of their horses’ feet had passed away, everything was very quiet in the valley. The queen, who had dried her tears, played almost contentedly with the baby, consoled by its beauty and its merriment. By and by, however, she became anxious, for she thought that the king had been away a very long time. The baby was asleep by now, so she laid it down among the meadow flowers, covered it with her cloak, and set off, on foot, up the rocky path that led to the top of the hill.

She had not gone more than a hundred yards or so when she heard a queer chuckling laugh behind her — just like the chuckle of a waterhen among the rushes, only much longer and more mischievous. She turned around, very quickly. And what do you think she saw?

She saw her little baby, the most precious thing she had, in the arms of a strange and beautiful lady. This lady’s gown rippled about her like water in the moonlight; her long golden hair was wreathed with forget-me-nots and silver shells; her white arms shone like alabaster.

She had taken the baby onto a big grey rock that jutted out from the land towards the center of the lake. She was rocking it in her arms and laughing. At the moment the queen caught sight of her, she began to sing.

The words seemed to be a fairy lullaby, but the poor queen did not pause to listen. With a loud cry, she set off, running, to rescue her little baby. But the fairy saw her coming. She sprang up on the rock, joined her two pretty white feet together, and, with the baby still in her arms, dived, like a silvery shining arrow, straight into the green waters of the lake. A sound like a clap of thunder echoed all down the valley, and a sudden wind lashed the water into white foam. The lightning played among the trees, like the flames of a witch’s fire, and long loud peals of laughter mingled with the terrible storm. It lasted just for a minute, then went as suddenly as it had come. Everything was still again; the lake glimmered green and calm. But the fairy lady and the baby prince had disappeared.

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The poor distracted queen ran up and down the banks of the lake, wringing her hands, and calling out her baby’s name. As she wept and called, the faithful servant came hurrying down the side of the mountain. He, too, was sobbing. He said that wicked King Claudas had set fire to the castle, which was blazing away into ruins, and that King Ban was lying at the top of the hill, dead with grief.

Then the queen dried her eyes, and folded her hands, and spoke calmly:

“My husband has gone. My baby has gone. My home has gone,” she said. “There is nothing left for me to live for. I may as well die, too.”

But, even as she said this, the abbess of a convent not far away came walking, wrapped in her cloak, along the banks of the lake. She was a good and sweet woman, and she knew all about the fairy in the silver robes, with white hands and golden hair, who lived under the water. She heard the queen’s sad words and, coming up to her, she spoke consolingly.

“Poor queen!” she said, “for, indeed, I know you are a queen — be comforted! You have not lost as much as you think you have. Your little baby is in hands far safer than those of any human nurse! For your husband, the king, be content. He is at peace. For yourself, there is a home waiting in the convent there, among the trees. Dry your tears and come with me.”

The abbess spoke so gently, and yet so firmly, that somehow an extraordinary feeling of consolation came over the poor queen. She went to the convent with this good woman and found it was a beautiful and restful place. The abbess kept telling her that the baby was, indeed, in the very best of hands. So by and by the queen, who was tired of wars and troubles, settled down in contentment and stayed with the good abbess in the convent until she died.

But what had happened to the baby?

Well, the beautiful fairy dived down, down, down, carrying little Lancelot in her arms. As she dived, her silver gown mingled with the silver ripples. Then, far below her, appeared the roofs and towers of an enchanted city. And now the water turned into a cloudy mist, and her robes spread out into two glittering wings. She was no longer diving, but floating on the misty air. Softly, very softly, she floated downwards, till the bright streets, and flowery gardens, and marble walls of the enchanted city showed quite clearly beneath. Then she stretched out her little white feet and alighted on the very tips of her toes, all among the tall green grass and fairy buttercups and daisies.

And from every side, beautiful ladies came running up to her, exclaiming, and shouting, and clapping their hands. They were, every one of them, fairies of the lake, and they were so pleased to have got a little human baby that they did not know what to do.

Tiny Lancelot had been sleeping all this time, and, because he was in the arms of a water fairy, had been able to breathe quite comfortably all the way down through the lake. Now he woke up and smiled at the pretty ladies clustering around him. Then they took him into one of the enchanted houses and gave him a wonderful nursery all to himself. And he was so merry and healthy that they called him the “beautiful foundling.” But the fairy lady who had brought him there, and who was the queen of them all, called him “son of a king” because, you see, she knew that he was of royal human blood and that someday he must go back to the world, from Fairyland, and play his part, as a prince, among his fellow men. And how Lancelot of the Lake went back to the world from the enchanted city under the water you shall hear in another story.