WHEREFORE SACRED CHIMES HAD RANG (Story by BoSt, 2025)

 WHEREFORE SACRED CHIMES HAD RANG

(A Christmas story by BoSt, 2025) 

All acts of kindness however minuscule do not escape the notice of Heaven, even though they may go unnoticed here on Earth.

Once upon a time in a far-off land there was a magnificent spiritual temple set on a hilltop. Though the mortal beings that inhabited this region (all the myriad beings) worshipped many different gods, they still respected each others religion and at times even actively participated in the other’s celebrations. Christmas time being one such.  

01- WHITE CHURCH -JP

This spiritual temple in particular, its congregation called it the White Church, for the outside stone was exactly that, was magnificent. The tall stained-glass windows, placed specifically to catch best angles of the sun’s rays, depicted angels and brilliantly executed religious scenes praising God Almighty’s power and extolling the virtues of the Christian saints. Pious carpenters had painstakingly carved magnificent wooden reliefs above and to the sides of the main entrance. The Church’s most prominent feature however was the white stone tower with ivy growing over it as far up as the eye can see. In the steeple an array of Christmas chimes was housed.

Every Christmas Eve many inhabitants of the city, re-enacting an old tradition, flocked to this church bringing with them many offerings to their savior, the Christ Child. Legends told of a time when, after the greatest and best offering was laid on the altar, there arose above the voices of the choir a beautiful sound, emanating from the top of the tower the most divine music of the Christmas Chimes.

Some claimed it had to be the wind that rang them, while other more pious ones believed in their heart of hearts, and exclaimed loudly so, that it had to be the angels that set the bells swinging to produce that heavenly sound.

Then came a time when, however great the offerings were, the chimes never again created blissful melody. As a result, the pious group belonging to this church were saddened, feeling there must be something amiss. Yet many Christmases came and went, and no chimes (no heavenly music) were ever heard.

02- WARRIOR ERLAND

It so happened that there was a disillusioned, recluse warrior called Erland, his name meaning, aptly, an outsider or foreigner. He was of about thirty-five years old, height over six feet tall, burly physique (muscular, strong, robust body) with long blond hair that cascaded down his shoulders.  Erland had never been married, he lived a solitary life, by choice, with his dog Longze as his sole companion, in a ramshackle hut at the edge of a dense forest, not far from the notable church.

This once a mighty warrior had a deep scar, from his eyebrow to chin, on his left cheek, which in part spoiled his very handsome features (face). He had many more scars under his tunic and on the rest of his body that told of many fought battles won or lost.  At the end of one such fierce battle, when the crimson ground was strewn (spotted) with dead and dying warriors, Erland searching for his fallen friend, had instead found Longze, a tiny little whelp no more than three months old, curled up beside a bloody corpse of a warrior; the puppy was cold and frightened, but refused to leave his master. Such resolute loyalty had tugged at Erland’s heartstrings, and he’d reached to pick him up. The puppy, despite its size was fierce and fought him, even bit his hand, which had made Erland love him all the more.  In time Longze, the name that had come to him in a premonitory dream shortly thereafter, and upon waking he’d called him by that name and the little puppy had responded to his call. Gradually Longze had accepted him as his new master and the two had since then had become basically (essentially,) inseparable.

03  PUPPY LONGZE 2

Erland, sometimes visited the local tavern to have a pint or two, always seated in a dark corner, rarely accepting company, with Longze always by his side.  Once or twice, Erland had acquiesced however, needing contact with another human soul and it had happened to be at around winter solstice and Christmas. On that particular night, feeling unusually sentimental, and thinking he had the other’s ear (that he was being heard), Erland, had reminisced (recalled) a time when his mother had spoken to him of hearing the chimes when she was but a little girl. In her waning years, always a devout Christian, she had mourned the fact that lately people had become more selfish and grown less generous in their hearts with their donations for the needy. That the last five years love and compassion for a fellow being had gradually diminished, in some cases had been entirely nonexistent; pomp and ceremony, hand in hand with greed and ambition taking root instead. As a result, when an offering was made without the purest heart and intentions and it had become only a show, it did not move the angels and justly did not merit the music of the chimes.

Erland stopping at this point, had quaffed (guzzled) a swig (mouthful) of the barely tolerable brew, for he’d imbibed better spirits in his heyday, then nodded morosely and then asked, not really expecting an answer, “As testament of these demoralizing times, when was the last time anyone had heard of the chimes?”

Even though wars had ended and on the surface, subsequent six or seven years, all seemed peaceful, there was a hidden coercion (undercurrent censorship) in that realm; and certainly, no one wanted to hear the truth; and so, the person seated across from Erland had typically fidgeted, blinking first with fright , then furtively casting  his stone gaze about him, to ascertain that no one had heard Erland’s rebellious tirade (rant). But Erland had kept his voice low, he was simply letting off steam, not a shout certainly that could be overheard amidst this drunken cacophony (discord, noise) of patrons (regulars) of the tavern. His burly companion, seeing he was safe, exhaled in relief as he, same time lowered his head and said nothing.

“Why did he bother?” Erland inwardly scoffed; angry that he was a wolf still living among sheep.

Swallowing his irritation however, Erland simply (bolted) rose to his feet, and with trusted companion dog Longze, wagging his tale, happy to be at last leaving this loud, stinky environment, trailing him, left the tavern.  

Subsequent winter had been particularly harsh for those living on the fringe (peripheral, the outlying areas). Snow and ice had permanently for months, covered the entire region. When the warrior Erland, having stayed out in the woods longer than he should, hunting for game, and later still chopped some wood, hence, was beset with fever, burning up in his bed, his exasperated dog Longze had finally on the third day left his side to go fetch him some help. But owing to the frantic, festive time, help was not that easy to get. Still, Erland’s faithful companion Longze, had unrelentingly tried and tried, seeking help, trying to fetch anyone, without avail, for his master.

                                                                                              ~

04- TAZA AND KALEN'S PARENTS

In a remote country village, several miles from the capital city Mortak, meanwhile, there lived a boy named Taza and his little brother Kalen. Their parents had once belonged to an indigenous group that had been systematically hunted to near extinction, because they had refused to forsake their heritage and conform to the rigid rules of this present regime.  Taza and Kalen’s highly educated parents who had chosen to live on the fringe, had always fostered tolerance of all spiritual beliefs and traditions; however, they had same time maintained their heritage (birthright) ideologies and different sort of religious beliefs... One embracing warship of Sun, Moon, Sky and the nature spirits.

Meanwhile, as the information about varied different religions were readily available at libraries and schools, Taza and Kalen had been drawn, especially at Christmas, to the religious practices of Christianity.  There were many beautiful aspects in that religious teachings (doctrines), and profuse (abundant) lessons and stories that had captivated their young imagination; hence, at Christmas time, they were as excited in their hearts and were eager to participate in copious (plentiful) religion’s traditions and festivities.

05- TAZA (22) JP

This winter marked the time, which their parents had been dead for over three years; fever had claimed them both, and Taza now at sixteen years old, as the sole provider, had done his best to in all that time, provide for his little brother Kalen. This was no small feat, for Kalen with his boundless exuberance, was a handful.

As education was widely available and was free (state funded) to all citizens, Taza and Kalen had continued with their schooling, and with their eager mind and insatiable appetites for acquiring new knowledge having never waned (diminished), each day they had borne (endured, weathered) the difficult terrain (topography) and at times harsh conditions of climate (weather, temperatures), and walked quite ways to attend school. It was during an ordinary school day that Kalen had overheard a group of kids that were eagerly discussing all the elaborate preparations their families (more than that, the whole congregation) had accomplished (fulfilled) for the upcoming Christmas celebrations.

Intrigued by all that he’d heard, Kalen, who was six years in age, later that day, had pleaded and pleaded with his elder brother Taza to take him to that particular spiritual white temple, the White Church. His curious nature demanded that he experienced it firsthand, for only then he would understand what all the fuss was about.  It was a perfect time to do this, as the school would be closed for ten days to also accommodate the winter solstice revelling, and other such, with groups rejoicing, with their own brand of festivities all over the region. Kalen had looked up at his brother with those wanting, puppy eyes, that always tugged at Taza’s heart’s strings. How could Taze say no?

06- KALEN (14) JP

This was also a particularly somber time for Taza and Kalen, as they watched joyful family interactions (exchanges), knowing they were all alone in the world; nevertheless, they did their best to celebrate, finding solace in the fact that they still had each other. They also carried the unwavering hope that Heaven would provide them with whatever they needed.

After a long consideration, Taza had answered yes, to Kalen, and watched him do a joyful dance, as he with his open palms reaching up to the sky, twirled about, elated, anticipating the thrilling adventure they were about to embark on.  

Always the responsible youth, Taza woke up at first daylight the following morning and bundled some dry rations, mainly two hard boiled eggs, half a loaf of bread, a clump of hard cheese, strips of dried meat and some seasonal berries, in a cloth and tied its ends. Leaving it on the side table, Taza then gently woke Kalen from his deep slumber; they had a quick breakfast, then Taza picking up the already prepared bundle, slung it over his shoulder and both exited their humble abode.

The days preceding (prior to) Christmas were always bitterly cold with frigid temperatures plunging below zero and made worse by thrashing winds that whipped and punished any wayward souls who dared venture outside.  Knowing this, they had set forth on their adventure with skins of water that hung at their waists and, both already dressed in several layers to escape the bitter, bone chilling hoarfrost (rime frost and ice).
For untold hours the boys trudged to cover the great distance to the place where the White Temple stood. Huddled together, they walked hand in hand bending their backs to brace themselves against the strong winds. The icy drizzle still however, mercilessly chilled them to the very marrow of their bones. By dusk they were tired, famished and exhausted, almost unable to take another step, yet the lights of the big structure now visible, perched on a hilltop, just ahead, egged them to soldier on.

At dusk, panting, they at long last approached the gates of the Temple ground; their eyes assessed the long gravely, icy path, configuring the steps they would still have to take before reaching the Temple’s doors.  From the look of things, the afternoon prayers had already been concluded; however, there was the evening prayers and activities yet to transpire, so the gates had remained wide open for the anticipated congregation (worshipers, flock, churchgoers, parishioners).

Taza and Kelon, though extremely tired, without stopping passed through the iron gates and began walking the long path; just then however, Taza spotted off to the side something dark on the snow and he veered off to take a closer look. It was a poor dog who had obviously suffered a mishap, some trauma and fallen into the shallow ditch. Stranded, he lay there practically half-dead, too sick and shivering with cold, to rise up and seek help. Rushing over, Taza knelt beside the poor thing, and carefully examined his injuries, paying particular attention to the incapacitated leg. Thankfully the bone was not broken but there was a deep slash (tear, cut) into the muscle, though not too serious and the wound was fresh. It had happened recently, for the blood was congealed, frozen but not black, the laceration not angry, therefore, no infection had set in.  Taza heaved a deep sigh of relief and before starting anything, checked the dog’s name tag, to find out his name. Longze was his name. Just then Longze had opened his eyelids and looked at Taza, his eyes searching, wanting something; next he then with some difficulty lifted his head, whimpering, nudging his nose on Taza’s hand and same time, strove to get up.

07- LONGZE INJURED AND IN DITCH

“Take it easy boy; I mean you no harm. Be still Longze… stay put, I’ll do my best to help you.” Taza talked to the dog soothingly as he, same time stroked the side of Longze’s keck.  He was good with animals that way. The poor thing was shivering, he was certainly freezing; without another thought, Taza took off his outer layer and wrapped it around the dog, to allow him some warmth. Understanding that he was also dehydrated, Taza fetched his waterskin; intelligent animal that Lonze was, he opened his mouth and allowed Taza to trickle some water down his throat.  

Taza next began tending the injured leg carefully as if he had all the time in the world. Fortunately, Taza had also packed some salve (lotion, ointment, balm), a healing liniment, which he carried in his pocket for just in case they got scraped or injured.

First, by rubbing some snow on the area, Taza carefully cleaned the laceration (slash) on the leg, then applied the salve on it. Next, he cut long strips off his tunic and used it to bandage the wound.

While he’d done all that, Kelan had stood by patiently, watching him intently, though he registered deep concern and impatience in his eyes, for they were in a snowy field, some ways off the path.  Kalen feared that when darkness descended on them, no one would know they are there. The sky laden with clouds and this, coupled with the diminishing light of the setting sun, would soon shroud (blanket) them in pitch darkness and invisible.

Just then, as if reading his mind, Taza suddenly looked up and addressed his little brother, “It’s no use, Kalen; I can’t leave Longze in this condition. You go on ahead to the church, without me.”

“Alone?” cried Kalen in a fearful voice. “No, I can’t. I can’t let you ... miss the Christmas Festival.”

“You are brave, just go on by yourself. I’ll be fine and, I’ll be right here when you come back. I must tend to his other needs; there is still more to be done.  I know he’s starving.”

Taza then questioned the canine: “How long has it been boy, since you’ve eaten?”  He asked the poor thing, not expecting any answer. He looked at those soulful eyes of Longze, who lacked (human speech) vernacular ability to communicate something that was obviously vital(critical)… That of which wasn’t about him…. It was something imperative, something else.

“How horrible it must be, to be without the faculty of human speech?”  Taza pensively nodded his head and then turned to look at Kalen, who remained reluctant to leave, and pleaded.
“Go on Kalen; please don’t make things any harder, I can’t leave him in this state!”

Kalen knitted his brows and pouted; then, with certain resignation, turned to go.

“Oh, wait…”  Taza suddenly urgently cried out, remembering something.  He then quickly reached deep into to his inner pocket and withdrew a treasured object for his little brother to take.

“I’d done some preliminary reading on this religion; offerings could also be made at this particular time for the souls of the departed; it will bring them apt solace in afterlife. If you get a chance, little brother, to slip up to the altar without getting in anyone's way, please take this little wooden angel (which I’ve carved) and (the copper  coin) the two pence, and place them all down, as our offering, before the icon (image) of their deity, for our parents’ sake, when no one is looking. That way it will be the same as me going there. "

08 -KALEN HOLDING ANGEL AND TWO COINS (15) JP 2

Kalen had simply nodded and then with a heavy heart left Taza; someways down, he looked back over his shoulder and saw that his brother Taza was now feeding the strips of dried meat they had taken along, to the one that needed it the most. Kalen smiled in approval, thinking how fortunate he was to have such a kind, loving brother, which made him feel that instant, warm and safe all over.

“You can do this; you are no coward!” Thereafter, sticking his chin out, he hastened his steps, to reach the procession of the people, that had alighted (descended) from their posh (grand) carriages and were presently ascending (climbing), the stairs of the Temple.

The decked-out interior of the great church was truly a magnificent place that night. The decorations, lights and glitter, all the displays, riches he’d never seen the like of before simply took his little breath away. A small urchin like himself was virtually invisible amidst the procession as they took their gifts for the Christ Child to the altar.
Some worshipers laid down wonderful jewels; some gave baskets with massive amounts of gold so heavy they could scarcely carry them down the aisle. A famed author laid down his prized work, a book he had, after many years, just completed.

09- FAMOUS AUTHOR OFFERS A BOOK

Then the King and Queen appeared in all their majesty, hoping, like the least petitioner, to win for themselves the music of the Christmas chimes. A great murmur rippled through the church as the people witnessed the King, additionally, taking his priceless golden crown, set with diamonds and rare precious gems, from his head and laying it to gleam on the alter as his offering to the Christ Child.

“Surely, “They intoned in unison, “Surely we shall hear the bells now.” But the chimes did not ring. Not even a whimper was heard.

When the gifts were all on the altar, prayers uttered, long sermon ended and finally, the choir began the closing hymn…. And still no chimes manifesting…. By degrees, the disappointed crowd, murmuring under their breath, slowly but surely, began to disperse.

Suddenly however, the organist had abruptly ceased (stopped) his playing; and everyone shocked (holding their breath), looked aghast at the old Priest, who was holding up his hand for silence.

“What’s this?” A hushed murmur rippled through the air.

For unmistakably, when the people strained their ears and listened hard, there came at first a manifest unearthly sound of akin harp; but then, resonating through the air, softly but distinctly, ensued (materialized) the heavenly music of the chimes in the tower!

The divine music seemed so far away and yet so clear. The notes were so much sweeter than any sound they had ever heard. Melody rising and falling in the sky was so entrancing that the people in the church held their breath and stood perfectly still.

Then they all stood up together and stared at the altar, wanting to see what great gift had awakened these long-silent chimes. But all the nearest of them saw was the figure of Kalen, who had crept softly down the aisle, perfectly unseen and placed Taza’s little wooden angel and the two pieces of copper on the altar. He’d then quickly left, never realizing the miracle he’d gifted to the people.

 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE 

 The story could well end here, but not just yet.

 

The two brothers, Taza and Kalen, had followed the guidance of the Longze, part carrying him, part following him, that night, to finally, after a long trek, they had reached the wooden cabin at the edge of the forest.

Inside, they discovered, the ailing Erland, still in the grip of fever but stubbornly hanging onto life.

 Longze, with renewed strength had rushed to the side of his master, nuzzling Erland’s head and whimpering to him that help was there, to hang on. The warrior Erland seemed to understand his dog’s urgent pleas and forced open his eyes to take a good long look at Taza. He nodded his head and closed his eyes, though temporarily.

Taza, despite his young age, knew exactly what to do, for after his parent’s demise, he had diligently studied and acquired the amassed knowledge of how to cure this terrible fever which had taken so many lives.

He had been motivated since that time, with strong determination not to have this sickness rob anyone else of a loved one, not if he could help it. He’d poured into books absorbing, learning every bit of knowledge that provided the cure and moreover, he had sought the help of homeopathic healers nearby. And learned to identify the key plants that was helpful in eliminating some of the symptoms.  These accrued (combined) information permanently committed to memory; he set to work at once to help cure this ailing solitary warrior Erland.

As Taza tended to the sick warrior Erland, little brave Kalen and Longze proved two useful assistants in foraging (finding) the necessary herbs, which was essentially easy feat, once one knew where to find it

Local physicians could not have achieved what Taza did after a week; for he had put his heart and his very soul into curing Erland.  Taza during that week, many a night loosing sleep, had worked (diligently) tireless, long laborious hours, to diminish Erland’s fever and afford him comfort. Then as his condition began to improve, Taza nursed him back to health by providing him apt nourishment and allowing warrior’s own natural immune system to also assist in speeding up his convalescence. 

And yes, Erland finally recovered; he was so filled with gratitude and loved these two boys, understanding how very heroic, self-sacrificing, stoic, precious things they were, that he later, formally (legally) adapted them as his children. And so, a loving family (of four) was formed, including Longze of course.  Longza lived to a ripe old age (dog’s years), contended and never lacking for anything.

Erland was also, for the first time ever, was at peace with his past; he  spent the rest of his life protecting, nurturing Taza and Kalen and bringing them up proper and later still, passing on his warrior skills onto them.

 

The End

THE ISLAND OF THE NINE WHIRLPOOLS

(The Book of Dragons -1901- by E. Nesbit)

The dark arch that led to the witch's cave was hung with a black-and-yellow fringe of live snakes. As the Queen went in, keeping carefully in the middle of the arch, all the snakes lifted their wicked, flat heads and stared at her with their wicked, yellow eyes. You know it is not good manners to stare, even at Royalty, except of course for cats. And the snakes had been so badly brought up that they even put their tongues out at the poor lady. Nasty, thin, sharp tongues they were too.

Now, the Queen's husband was, of course, the King. And besides being a King he was an enchanter, and considered to be quite at the top of his profession, so he was very wise, and he knew that when Kings and Queens want children, the Queen always goes to see a witch. So he gave the Queen the witch's address, and the Queen called on her, though she was very frightened and did not like it at all. The witch was sitting by a fire of sticks, stirring something bubbly in a shiny copper cauldron.

"What do you want, my dear?" she said to the Queen.

"Oh, if you please," said the Queen, "I want a baby—a very nice one. We don't want any expense spared. My husband said—"

"Oh, yes," said the witch. "I know all about him. And so you want a child? Do you know it will bring you sorrow?"

"It will bring me joy first," said the Queen.

"Great sorrow," said the witch.

"Greater joy," said the Queen.

Then the witch said, "Well, have your own way. I suppose it's as much as your place is worth to go back without it?"

"The King would be very much annoyed," said the poor Queen.

"Well, well," said the witch. "What will you give me for the child?"

"Anything you ask for, and all I have," said the Queen.

 

"Then give me your gold crown."

The Queen took it off quickly.

"And your necklace of blue sapphires."

The Queen unfastened it.

"And your pearl bracelets."

The Queen unclasped them.

"And your ruby clasps."

And the Queen undid the clasps.

"Now the lilies from your breast."

The Queen gathered together the lilies.

"And the diamonds of your little bright shoe buckles."

The Queen pulled off her shoes.

Then the witch stirred the stuff that was in the cauldron, and, one by one, she threw in the gold crown and the sapphire necklace and the pearl bracelets and the ruby clasps and the diamonds of the little bright shoe buckles, and last of all she threw in the lilies.

The stuff in the cauldron boiled up in foaming flashes of yellow and blue and red and white and silver, and sent out a sweet scent, and presently the witch poured it out into a pot and set it to cool in the doorway among the snakes.

Then she said to the Queen: "Your child will have hair as golden as your crown, eyes as blue as your sapphires. The red of your rubies will lie on its lips, and its skin will be clear and pale as your pearls. Its soul will be white and sweet as your lilies, and your diamonds will be no clearer than its wits."

"Oh, thank you, thank you," said the Queen, "and when will it come?"

"You will find it when you get home."

"And won't you have something for yourself?" asked the Queen. "Any little thing you fancy—would you like a country, or a sack of jewels?"

"Nothing, thank you," said the witch. "I could make more diamonds in a day than I should wear in a year."

"Well, but do let me do some little thing for you," the Queen went on. "Aren't you tired of being a witch? Wouldn't you like to be a Duchess or a Princess, or something like that?"

"There is one thing I should rather like," said the witch, "but it's hard to get in my trade."

"Oh, tell me what," said the Queen.

"I should like some one to love me," said the witch.

Then the Queen threw her arms around the witch's neck and kissed her half a hundred times. "Why," she said, "I love you better than my life! You've given me the baby—and the baby shall love you too."

"Perhaps it will," said the witch, "and when the sorrow comes, send for me. Each of your fifty kisses will be a spell to bring me to you. Now, drink up your medicine, there's a dear, and run along home."

So, the Queen drank the stuff in the pot, which was quite cool by this time, and she went out under the fringe of snakes, and they all behaved like good Sunday-school children. Some of them even tried to drop a curtsy to her as she went by, though that is not easy when you are hanging wrong way up by your tail. But the snakes knew the Queen was friends with their mistress; so, of course, they had to do their best to be civil.

When the Queen got home, sure enough there was the baby lying in the cradle with the Royal arms blazoned on it, crying as naturally as possible. It had pink ribbons to tie up its sleeves, so the Queen saw at once it was a girl. When the King knew this, he tore his black hair with fury.

"Oh, you are silly, silly Queen!" he said. "Why didn't I marry a clever lady? Did you think I went to all the trouble and expense of sending you to a witch to get a girl? You knew well enough it was a boy I wanted—a boy, an heir, a Prince—to learn all my magic and my enchantments, and to rule the kingdom after me. I'll bet a crown—my crown," he said, "you never even thought to tell the witch what kind you wanted! Did you now?"

And the Queen hung her head and had to confess that she had only asked for a child.

"Very well, madam," said the King, "very well—have your own way. And make the most of your daughter, while she is a child."

The Queen did. All the years of her life had never held half so much happiness as now lived in each of the moments when she held her little baby in her arms. And the years went on, and the King grew more and more clever at magic, and more and more disagreeable at home, and the Princess grew more beautiful and dearer every day she lived.

The Queen and the Princess were feeding the goldfish in the courtyard fountains with crumbs of the Princess's eighteenth birthday cake, when the King came into the courtyard, looking as black as thunder, with his black raven hopping after him. He shook his fist at his family, as indeed he generally did whenever he met them, for he was not a King with pretty home manners.

The raven sat down on the edge of the marble basin and tried to peck the goldfish. It was all he could do to show that he was in the same temper as his master.

"A girl indeed!" said the King angrily. "I wonder you can dare to look me in the face, when you remember how your silliness has spoiled everything."

"You oughtn't to speak to my mother like that," said the Princess. She was eighteen, and it came to her suddenly and all in a moment that she was a grown-up, so she spoke out.

The King could not utter a word for several minutes. He was too angry. But the Queen said, "My dear child, don't interfere," quite crossly, for she was frightened.

And to her husband she said, "My dear, why do you go on worrying about it? Our daughter is not a boy, it is true—but she may marry a clever man who could rule your kingdom after you, and learn as much magic as ever you cared to teach him."

Then the King found his tongue.

"If she does marry," he said, slowly, "her husband will have to be a very clever man—oh, yes, very clever indeed! And he will have to know a very great deal more magic than I shall ever care to teach him."

The Queen knew at once by the King's tone that he was going to be disagreeable.

"Ah," she said, "don't punish the child because she loves her mother."

"I'm not going to punish her for that," said he. "I'm only going to teach her to respect her father."

And without another word he went off to his laboratory and worked all night, boiling different-colored things in crucibles, and copying charms in curious twisted letters from old brown books with mold stains on their yellowy pages.

The next day his plan was all arranged. He took the poor Princess to the Lone Tower, which stands on an island in the sea, a thousand miles from everywhere. He gave her a dowry, and settled a handsome income on her. He engaged a competent dragon to look after her, and also a respectable griffin whose birth and upbringing he knew all about. And he said: "Here you shall stay, my dear, respectful daughter, till the clever man comes to marry you. He'll have to be clever enough to sail a ship through the Nine Whirlpools that spin around the island, and to kill the dragon and the griffin. Till he comes you'll never get any older or any wiser. No doubt he will soon come. You can employ yourself in embroidering your wedding gown. I wish you joy, my dutiful child."

And his carriage, drawn by live thunderbolts (thunder travels very fast), rose in the air and disappeared, and the poor Princess was left, with the dragon and the griffin, on the Island of the Nine Whirlpools.

The Queen, left at home, cried for a day and a night, and then she remembered the witch and called to her. And the witch came, and the Queen told her all.

"For the sake of the twice twenty-five kisses you gave me," said the witch, "I will help you. But it is the last thing I can do, and it is not much. Your daughter is under a spell, and I can take you to her. But, if I do, you will have to be turned to stone, and to stay so till the spell is taken off the child."

"I would be a stone for a thousand years," said the poor Queen, "if at the end of them I could see my dear again."

So, the witch took the Queen in a carriage drawn by live sunbeams (which travel more quickly than anything else in the world, and much quicker than thunder), and so away and away to the Lone Tower on the Island of the Nine Whirlpools. And there was the Princess sitting on the floor in the best room of the Lone Tower, crying as if her heart would break, and the dragon and the griffin were sitting primly on each side of her.

"Oh, Mother, Mother, Mother," she cried, and hung around the Queen's neck as if she would never let go.

"Now," said the witch, when they had all cried as much as was good for them, "I can do one or two other little things for you. Time shall not make the Princess sad. All days will be like one day till her deliverer comes. And you and I, dear Queen, will sit in stone at the gate of the tower. In doing this for you I lose all my witch's powers, and when I say the spell that changes you to stone, I shall change with you, and if ever we come out of the stone, I shall be a witch no more, but only a happy old woman."

Then the three kissed one another again and again, and the witch said the spell, and on each side of the door there was now a stone lady. One of them had a stone crown on its head and a stone scepter in its hand; but the other held a stone tablet with words on it, which the griffin and the dragon could not read, though they had both had a very good education.

And now all days seemed like one day to the Princess, and the next day always seemed the day when her mother would come out of the stone and kiss her again. And the years went slowly by. The wicked King died, and some one else took his kingdom, and many things were changed in the world; but the island did not change, nor the Nine Whirlpools, nor the griffin, nor the dragon, nor the two stone ladies. And all the time, from the very first, the day of the Princess's deliverance was coming, creeping nearer, and nearer, and nearer. But no one saw it coming except the Princess, and she only in dreams. And the years went by in tens and in hundreds, and still the Nine Whirlpools spun around, roaring in triumph the story of many a good ship that had gone down in their swirl, bearing with it some Prince who had tried to win the Princess and her dowry.

And the great sea knew all the other stories of the Princes who had come from very far, and had seen the whirlpools, and had shaken their wise young heads and said: "'Bout ship!" and gone discreetly home to their nice, safe, comfortable kingdoms.

But no one told the story of the deliverer who was to come. And the years went by.

Now, after more scores of years than you would like to add up on your slate, a certain sailor-boy sailed on the high seas with his uncle, who was a skilled skipper. And the boy could reef a sail and coil a rope and keep the ship's nose steady before the wind. And he was as good a boy as you would find in a month of Sundays, and worthy to be a Prince.

Now there is Something which is wiser than all the world—and it knows when people are worthy to be Princes. And this Something came from the farther side of the seventh world and whispered in the boy's ear.

And the boy heard, though he did not know he heard, and he looked out over the black sea with the white foam-horses galloping over it, and far away he saw a light. And he said to the skipper, his uncle: "What light is that?"

Then the skipper said: "All good things defend you, Nigel, from sailing near that light. It is not mentioned in all charts; but it is marked in the old chart I steer by, which was my father's father's before me, and his father's father's before him. It is the light that shines from the Lone Tower that stands above the Nine Whirlpools. And when my father's father was young, he heard from the very old man, his great-great-grandfather, that in that tower an enchanted Princess, fairer than the day, waits to be delivered. But there is no deliverance, so never steer that way; and think no more of the Princess, for that is only an idle tale. But the whirlpools are quite real."

So, of course, from that day Nigel thought of nothing else. And as he sailed hither and thither upon the high seas he saw from time to time the light that shone out to sea across the wild swirl of the Nine Whirlpools. And one night, when the ship was at anchor and the skipper asleep in his bunk, Nigel launched the ship's boat and steered alone over the dark sea towards the light. He dared not go very near till daylight should show him what, indeed, were the whirlpools he had to dread.

But when the dawn came, he saw the Lone Tower standing dark against the pink and primrose of the East, and about its base the sullen swirl of black water, and he heard the wonderful roar of it. So he hung off and on, all that day and for six days besides. And when he had watched seven days he knew something. For you are certain to know something if you give for seven days your whole thought to it, even though it be only the first declension, or the nine-times table, or the dates of the Norman Kings.

What he knew was this: that for five minutes out of the 1,440 minutes that make up a day the whirlpools slipped into silence, while the tide went down and left the yellow sand bare. And every day this happened, but every day it was five minutes earlier than it had been the day before. He made sure of this by the ship's chronometer, which he had thoughtfully brought with him.

So, on the eighth day, at five minutes before noon, Nigel got ready. And when the whirlpools suddenly stopped whirling and the tide sank, like water in a basin that has a hole in it, he stuck to his oars and put his back into his stroke, and presently beached the boat on the yellow sand. Then he dragged it into a cave and sat down to wait.

By five minutes and one second past noon, the whirlpools were black and busy again, and Nigel peeped out of his cave. And on the rocky ledge overhanging the sea he saw a Princess as beautiful as the day, with golden hair and a green gown—and he went out to meet her.

"I've come to save you," he said. "How darling and beautiful you are!"

"You are very good, and very clever, and very dear," said the Princess, smiling and giving him both her hands.

He shut a little kiss in each hand before he let them go.

"So now, when the tide is low again, I will take you away in my boat," he said.

"But what about the dragon and the griffin?" asked the Princess.

"Dear me," said Nigel. "I didn't know about them. I suppose I can kill them?"

"Don't be a silly boy," said the Princess, pretending to be very grown up, for, though she had been on the island time only knows how many years, she was just eighteen, and she still liked pretending. "You haven't a sword, or a shield, or anything!"

"Well, don't the beasts ever go to sleep?"

"Why, yes," said the Princess, "but only once in twenty-four hours, and then the dragon is turned to stone. But the griffin has dreams. The griffin sleeps at teatime every day, but the dragon sleeps every day for five minutes, and every day it is three minutes later than it was the day before."

"What time does he sleep today?" asked Nigel.

"At eleven," said the Princess.

"Ah," said Nigel, "can you do sums?"

"No," said the Princess sadly. "I was never good at them."

"Then I must," said Nigel. "I can, but it's slow work, and it makes me very unhappy. It'll take me days and days."

"Don't begin yet," said the Princess. "You'll have plenty of time to be unhappy when I'm not with you. Tell me all about yourself."

So, he did. And then she told him all about herself.

"I know I've been here a long time," she said, "but I don't know what Time is. And I am very busy sewing silk flowers on a golden gown for my wedding day. And the griffin does the housework—his wings are so convenient and feathery for sweeping and dusting. And the dragon does the cooking—he's hot inside, so, of course, it's no trouble to him; and though I don't know what Time is I'm sure it's time for my wedding day, because my golden gown only wants one more white daisy on the sleeve, and a lily on the bosom of it, and then it will be ready."

Just then they heard a dry, rustling clatter on the rocks above them and a snorting sound. "It's the dragon," said the Princess hurriedly. "Good-bye. Be a good boy, and get your sum done." And she ran away and left him to his arithmetic.

Now, the sum was this: "If the whirlpools stop and the tide goes down once in every twenty-four hours, and they do it five minutes earlier every twenty-four hours, and if the dragon sleeps every day, and he does it three minutes later every day, in how many days and at what time in the day will the tide go down three minutes before the dragon falls asleep?"

It is quite a simple sum, as you see: You could do it in a minute because you have been to a good school and have taken pains with your lessons; but it was quite otherwise with poor Nigel. He sat down to work out his sum with a piece of chalk on a smooth stone. He tried it by practice and the unitary method, by multiplication, and by rule-of-three-and-three-quarters. He tried it by decimals and by compound interest. He tried it by square root and by cube root. He tried it by addition, simple and otherwise, and he tried it by mixed examples in vulgar fractions. But it was all of no use. Then he tried to do the sum by algebra, by simple and by quadratic equations, by trigonometry, by logarithms, and by conic sections. But it would not do. He got an answer every time, it is true, but it was always a different one, and he could not feel sure which answer was right.

And just as he was feeling how much more important than anything else it is to be able to do your sums, the Princess came back. And now it was getting dark.

"Why, you've been seven hours over that sum," she said, "and you haven't done it yet. Look here, this is what is written on the tablet of the statue by the lower gate. It has figures in it. Perhaps it is the answer to the sum."

She held out to him a big white magnolia leaf. And she had scratched on it with the pin of her pearl brooch, and it had turned brown where she had scratched it, as magnolia leaves will do. Nigel read:

AFTER NINE DAYS

T ii. 24.

D ii. 27 Ans.

P.S.—And the griffin is artificial. R.

He clapped his hands softly.

"Dear Princess," he said, "I know that's the right answer. It says R too, you see. But I'll just prove it." So he hastily worked the sum backward in decimals and equations and conic sections, and all the rules he could think of. And it came right every time.

"So now we must wait," said he. And they waited.

And every day the Princess came to see Nigel and brought him food cooked by the dragon, and he lived in his cave, and talked to her when she was there, and thought about her when she was not, and they were both as happy as the longest day in summer. Then at last came The Day. Nigel and the Princess laid their plans.

"You're sure he won't hurt you, my only treasure?" said Nigel.

"Quite," said the Princess. "I only wish I were half as sure that he wouldn't hurt you."

"My Princess," he said tenderly, "two great powers are on our side: the power of Love and the power of Arithmetic. Those two are stronger than anything else in the world."

So, when the tide began to go down, Nigel and the Princess ran out on to the sands, and there, in full sight of the terrace where the dragon kept watch, Nigel took his Princess in his arms and kissed her.

The griffin was busy sweeping the stairs of the Lone Tower, but the dragon saw, and he gave a cry of rage—and it was like twenty engines all letting off steam at the top of their voices inside Cannon Street Station.

And the two lovers stood looking up at the dragon. He was dreadful to look at. His head was white with age—and his beard had grown so long that he caught his claws in it as he walked. His wings were white with the salt that had settled on them from the spray of the sea. His tail was long and thick and jointed and white, and had little legs to it, any number of them—far too many—so that it looked like a very large fat silkworm; and his claws were as long as lessons and as sharp as bayonets.

"Good-bye, love!" cried Nigel, and ran out across the yellow sand toward the sea. He had one end of a cord tied to his arm.

The dragon was clambering down the face of the cliff, and next moment he was crawling and writhing and sprawling and wriggling across the beach after Nigel, making great holes in the sand with his heavy feet—and the very end of his tail, where there were no legs, made, as it dragged, a mark in the sand such as you make when you launch a boat; and he breathed fire till the wet sand hissed again, and the water of the little rock pools got quite frightened, and all went off in steam.

Still Nigel held on and the dragon after him. The Princess could see nothing for the steam, and she stood crying bitterly, but still holding on tight with her right hand to the other end of the cord that Nigel had told her to hold; while with her left she held the ship's chronometer, and looked at it through her tears as he had bidden her look, so as to know when to pull the rope.

On went Nigel over the sand, and on went the dragon after him. And the tide was low, and sleepy little waves lapped the sand's edge.

Now at the lip of the water, Nigel paused and looked back, and the dragon made a bound, beginning a scream of rage that was like all the engines of all the railways in England. But it never uttered the second half of that scream, for now it knew suddenly that it was sleepy—it turned to hurry back to dry land, because sleeping near whirlpools is so unsafe. But before it reached the shore sleep caught it and turned it to stone. Nigel, seeing this, ran shoreward for his life—and the tide began to flow in, and the time of the whirlpools' sleep was nearly over, and he stumbled and he waded and he swam, and the Princess pulled for dear life at the cord in her hand, and pulled him up on to the dry shelf of rock just as the great sea dashed in and made itself once more into the girdle of Nine Whirlpools all around the island.

But the dragon was asleep under the whirlpools, and when he woke up from being asleep, he found he was drowned, so there was an end of him.

"Now, there's only the griffin," said Nigel. And the Princess said: "Yes—only—" And she kissed Nigel and went back to sew the last leaf of the last lily on the bosom of her wedding gown. She thought and thought of what was written on the stone about the griffin being artificial—and next day she said to Nigel: "You know a griffin is half a lion and half an eagle, and the other two halves when they've joined make the leo-griff. But I've never seen him. Yet I have an idea."

So, they talked it over and arranged everything.

When the griffin fell asleep that afternoon at teatime, Nigel went softly behind him and trod on his tail, and at the same time the Princess cried: "Look out! There's a lion behind you."

And the griffin, waking suddenly from his dreams, twisted his large neck around to look for the lion, saw a lion's flank, and fastened its eagle beak in it. For the griffin had been artificially made by the King-enchanter, and the two halves had never really got used to each other. So now the eagle half of the griffin, who was still rather sleepy, believed that it was fighting a lion, and the lion part, being half asleep, thought it was fighting an eagle, and the whole griffin in its deep drowsiness hadn't the sense to pull itself together and remember what it was made of. So the griffin rolled over and over, one end of it fighting with the other, till the eagle end pecked the lion end to death, and the lion end tore the eagle end with its claws till it died. And so the griffin that was made of a lion and an eagle perished, exactly as if it had been made of Kilkenny cats.

"Poor griffin," said the Princess, "it was very good at the housework. I always liked it better than the dragon: It wasn't so hot-tempered."

At that moment there was a soft, silky rush behind the Princess, and there was her mother, the Queen, who had slipped out of the stone statue at the moment the griffin was dead and now came hurrying to take her dear daughter in her arms. The witch was clambering slowly off her pedestal. She was a little stiff from standing still so long.

When they had all explained everything over and over to each other as many times as was good for them, the witch said: "Well, but what about the whirlpools?"

And Nigel said he didn't know. Then the witch said: "I'm not a witch anymore. I'm only a happy old woman, but I know some things still. Those whirlpools were made by the enchanter-King's dropping nine drops of his blood into the sea. And his blood was so wicked that the sea has been trying ever since to get rid of it, and that made the whirlpools. Now you've only got to go out at low tide."

So, Nigel understood and went out at low tide, and found in the sandy hollow left by the first whirlpool a great red ruby. That was the first drop of the wicked King's blood. The next day Nigel found another, and next day another, and so on till the ninth day, and then the sea was as smooth as glass.

The nine rubies were used afterwards in agriculture. You had only to throw them out into a field if you wanted it plowed. Then the whole surface of the land turned itself over in its anxiety to get rid of something so wicked, and in the morning the field was found to be plowed as thoroughly as any young man at Oxford. So the wicked King did some good after all.

When the sea was smooth, ships came from far and wide, bringing people to hear the wonderful story. And a beautiful palace was built, and the Princess was married to Nigel in her gold dress, and they all lived happily as long as was good for them.

The dragon still lies, a stone dragon on the sand, and at low tide the little children play around him and over him.

But the pieces that were left of the griffin were buried under the herb-bed in the palace garden, because it had been so good at housework, and it wasn't its fault that it had been made so badly and put to such poor work as guarding a lady from her lover.

I have no doubt that you will wish to know what the Princess lived on during the long years when the dragon did the cooking. My dear, she lived on her income—and that is a thing that a great many people would like to be able to do.

THE END.