The Knight of the White Horse

There was once a woman who had a child. Her husband had gone to find work in another town and she missed him. But worse was to come, for before long her child was taken by the faeries and a changeling left instead. You may imagine her sorrow and her fear for her child.

But she quickly became less unhappy and more angry. She read about the faeries and one morning put the changeling into swaddling clothes and told it that she would put it into an iron cradle unless it told her who had taken her own child and where she might fetch the child from. The faeries do not like cold iron and the changeling struggled in its swaddling bands and wept. It snarled and growled and threatened, but the mother was adamant. So the changeling soon became meek and told the mother that the Queen of the Lake beyond the forest had her child.

The mother put the changeling back into the wooden cradle and surrounded it with iron and steel implements. That done, she took her own iron crucifix and a carving knife as well as enough food for the journey. She could not drive through the forest and so she must walk. She put on her boots and her wool coat and set out through the back garden. She was about to go through the gate into the forest when her long-haired white cat met her.

"Where do you go to, mistress?" the cat asked.

The woman was astonished to hear her cat speak, but told the cat that she was going to get her child back from the Queen of the Lake beyond the forest. The cat said that he would go with her, for he had a longing to travel and the mother might need his help. The woman did not know how he might help her, but she was glad of the company, so they went across the meadow beyond the gate and into the forest.

They walked and walked until the woman was very weary, but still she would not stop. The cat then left her and when he returned he had two pheasants in his jaws. Hunger gripped the woman's stomach and she thanked the cat. She stopped and made a fire, cooking both pheasants. One she ate and the other, the cat ate. They were most glad of the rest and the food. Now as they finished eating, beautiful gentle music slipped between the trees and into their ears. The woman felt herself relaxing and leaning back against a tree she began to fall asleep. The cat however growled and miauled loudly and hissed until the music stopped. He nipped the woman's hand and would have scratched her sharply if she had not awoken.

"They seek to beguile you mistress. Sing your own songs loudly and let us go on," the cat told her.

The woman shook the sleep from her head and they went on through the night. The woman stumbled from time to time but she did not stop. The cat helped guide her as best he could. The following morning found them tired and bedraggled but still moving on. Just as the woman felt tiredness seeping into her bones they came out of the forest and beheld a large calm lake.

"Be aware mistress, for this is the Queen's lake. Rest here and I will fetch food for us both," the cat told her.

She was only too happy to sit with her back against a tree and rest. Off the cat went to hunt for food.

Now the Queen of the Lake soon heard from her minions that the woman was arrived near the shore of her lake. She arose up through the waters and strode across the surface of the lake to the shore. Beyond the shore was a wide strand of grass and moss and there against a tree she saw the mother. The Queen's blue-green eyes showed neither compassion nor pity. She saw only that the mother of her new acquisition was come. She whispered a word and at her command the waters of the lake lashed the shore and climbed the bank to flow across the strand. Before it had reached the woman however it must stop, for the forest was not the Queen's domain. Even among faeries, invasion is not a welcome act and the Queen of the Forest was most powerful. The Queen of the Lake returned to her waters and sent her guards to watch the woman.

Before long, the cat returned to the woman and woke her. They ate two hares this time and the cat sniffed the air and growled. He knew that the Queen had been there, but he ate his hare in silence.

Now the Queen sent a knight across the waters towards the woman. The knight was tall and his armour shone like the scales of a trout on his lean body. The woman found him rather elegant and beautiful, but his look was stern.

"My most noble Queen of the Lake demands that you renounce all rights to her property," he told her.

It is not wise to upset a mother in any circumstances, but this comment roused the mother's fury. Still, before she could answer the cat stood before her, his fur bristling with rage of his own.

"My mistress has her own champion, the knight of the white steed and she will fight the Queen's champion and the Queen herself to regain her child. Nobody may wilfully break away a child from its mother without paying dearly for it. Go back and tell your impertinent madam that," the cat replied.

The knight was furious, but he returned across the waters and down into the centre of the lake. Not long after an old gauntlet was flung back up to land before the woman and the cat. Now the woman became afraid of what the cat had done, but the cat told her,

"Trust me mistress, I am, like all cats, not all that I appear to be. Come with me a little way into the forest and fear nothing."

The woman did not see that she had much choice and returned into the forest with the cat. There, in the shadows of the trees the cat bid her await him. He trotted off among the trees and in a little while a beautiful white horse appeared with armour and weapons draped over a fine saddle. The woman spoke kindly to the horse who answered her in familiar tones,

"Mistress, put on the armour and the sword. I have been a cat in your garden, I shall be your steed by the lake. Know that this armour was worn by a great warrior queen who was blessed by the Queen of the Forest. I was the Queen of the Forest's champion then and I am yours now. You shall defeat the Lake champion if you want your child enough. Once you have done that, you must cast his sword into the lake and demand the Queen of the Lake return your child to you."

The mother put on the armour and buckled on the sword. Her mind was full of fearful thoughts and her hands trembled with worry. Yet, she was also angry enough to want her child back. She mounted up onto the white steed and rode out onto the grassy strand between the lake and the forest. At the horse's bidding, she took a bugle from the saddle bag and blew a challenge to the lake.

The Lake Queen's champion arose from the choppy waters of the lake and rode to the strand to meet the mother. The knight repeated the Queen's demand haughtily. But hearing it put aside all the mother's fears and she drew her sword firmly in her hand.

The knight charged at the mother, but she brought her sword down on his with such force that she broke his blade. She turned on the white steed sharply and with the flat of her blade, struck the knight so that he was flung from his saddle. He threw aside his broken sword and prepared to meet her. The horse bid her stay in the saddle, so she pointed her blade at the knight and asked if he would yield. If he yielded he would lose the battle and his Queen would transform him into a fish. So he refused and now the mother was at a loss. She did not want to kill the knight, but she wanted her child back. Remembering her steed's words, she bid the knight give up his sword to her. He dared not, so she rode a little closer until she was between him and the lake. The horse pushed him step by step towards the forest, but now the mother drew forth her iron crucifix and the knight instantly gave up his sword and fled back to the lake. With a scream of horror he dived into the lake and as he touched the waters, he became a long trout.

The mother dismounted, but held onto the horse's bridle. Sheathing her own sword, she took the knight's and mounted up again. Now, with her heart full of anger she demanded that her child be returned to her. Nothing happened and in that instant, she hurled the knight's sword towards the centre of the lake. The blade flashed as it turned in the air like a fish leaping from the water in the sun. It plunged into the lake and a loud shriek filled the air. The waters parted briefly and the Queen of the Lake strode again to the strand. In her arms she bore the mother's child.

"Give me back my child or I will follow you into the lake itself and fight you for my child in your home," the mother demanded.

With a furious and haughty look on her face the Queen paused, then she set the child upon the strand and returned to the waters saying over her shoulder,

"You may take your child if you know which one it is."

As she spoke a hundred identical babies appeared upon the strand. The mother dismounted and the steed whispered a word. In that moment, all but one of the children appeared older than the forest and the lake themselves. The mother went straight to her child who reached up to her. She took the child in her arms and held it close, kissing the soft warm face and weeping with her relief. Then she turned and returned to the horse who led her away back through the forest towards home.

As for what became of the child, why she grew into a musician of great ability and talent, but she never once spoke of what she had seen as a baby in the palace of the Queen of the Lake. The mother always loved and cherished her daughter and the beautiful white cat who stayed with the mother into her old age.

Revenge at Castiglioncello

I came at last to Castiglioncello, weary from the heat and the crowds. There was the scent of freshness in the streets despite the glaring sunlight, which I knew was from the sea. My good friend Giovanna was not on the station, but she texted me to come to her with an address. I got a taxi outside the train station and gave the driver the address in my casual yet rough Italian. He nodded silently and turning on the meter, drove out of the station through the city.

Italy's usual mix of architecture; the good, bad and ugly as well as the people in the streets occupied me. I love to look and Italy is full of wonderful things and people to look at. I had been doing research in Florence and having a weekend to myself I had called Giovanna whom I had not seen for a while. When I stepped from the taxi and paid the driver ten minutes later I felt at least a little more alive. I entered a street with a wall at one end. To my left was a beautiful old building that I guessed had been built in the 19th century. Around the high windows of the second storey at the building's base were shops and cafes.

I looked at the text again and a quick search revealed two large doors between the shops. I pushed at one of the heavy doors and it opened wide enough for me to slip inside. I closed it behind me and turned to find a shaded, cool stairwell and to the right of it a corridor that led to another set of doors. Beside the bottom of the stairs was a set of mail-boxes and I climbed the stairs, grateful for the coolness indoors. On the first landing I found the address I was looking for and knocked at the door. For a moment I heard muffled voices in quick, fluid Italian of the kind I wished I spoke. Then the door opened and Giovanna smiled and told me how glad she was to see me. I would have replied similarly but she kissed me, hugged me quickly and pulled me into the flat. It was a large, high-ceilinged flat with the sort of elegant beauty and a richness I knew neither Giovanna nor I possessed. I was led through to a bright, yet cool living room where, on a sofa sat a very well-dressed woman.

"Signora Ferrara, meet my dear English friend," Giovanna began and introduced me.

I told Signora Ferrara that I was honoured to meet her and her watchful dark eyes studied me even as she smiled and bid me sit. I took a chair opposite the sofa and Signora Ferrara called for coffee. A young woman with a ready smile brought us coffee in the sort of elegant porcelain that only a woman of a certain age will buy. At that age, one does not care too much of the opinions of strangers having determined to be oneself and be damned.

"You must call me Alegra, young man," Signora Ferrara said, "Signora Ferrara sounds as if I am old. I am not so old just yet."

I thanked her and she poured the coffee. When the three of us were settled she smiled at Giovanna very tenderly and said to me,

"I hear you like stories of all kinds, but especially about faeries and the like."

It was the sort of remark that usually felt like an accusation, but this time I felt that she was somehow testing me. I said that I had always loved folktales and legends as well as the old myths. For a moment she was silent, giving Giovanna a warning look when my dear friend put her arm in mine and squeezed my hand. Then Alegra Ferrara sat back on the sofa and crossing her long legs sipped her coffee.

"You know my dear that Castiglioncello is very old like so many of our cities. It has a fine history and many stories of its famous sons and daughters are well-known locally," she said casually.

"Dio mio! Tell him what you told me Alegra! He can visit the museum later," Giovanna said quickly.

I was aware then that my friend was full to bursting with something she knew. Something she wanted me to know - that she knew I would want to know. Alegra chuckled softly and took another sip of coffee. She winked at me.

"Perhaps you would like something to eat, my dear," she said to me.

At that I grinned and politely declined as Giovanna threw up her hands and exclaimed. Alegra put up her hand to conciliate Giovanna and chuckled again. Giovanna had always been impatient but charmingly so and I saw from this that the two women were old friends.

"Once upon a time - isn't that how these tales start?" Alegra asked.

I nodded feeling impatient excitement now myself.

"Well there was in the 19th century in this city a young woman. She was said in the reports of the time to be quite a renowned beauty, not like Giovanna and myself who are not famous for our beauty. This woman was said to be either a witch or in league with the devil. She was neither, but there, people will talk. This young woman, Agnella, had made a lot of money. She gave much of it to poor women who had been seduced by men and abandoned when a child came along. She was much loved as a result by many women in Castiglioncello and indeed some men.

Now there was a group of young men in the town who wished to bring her down. They saw her as a troublemaker - many men see a woman like that when the woman exposes the viciousness of some men. Among this group was a very handsome gentleman. He was rich too and he decided that he would seduce Agnella so that in the society of the city she would be ruined.

He began by sending her poems on her beauty, which she ignored. These were not the first poems she had been sent recounting how beautiful she was. She knew that true beauty is not in mere flesh for age can destroy good looks as easily as it wishes. But then this young man would serenade her in the evenings so that her neighbours knew how he felt. She responded by sending her maid to ask him to keep the noise down for she was reading and did not wish to be disturbed.

The young man persisted in his aims and wore her resistance down. She could not deny that he was attractive and this blinded her to his lack of inner beauty. She longed for him as those in love will long for each other. Before long he had seduced her and only then did he leave her well enough alone. She wept, she raged, she became a recluse and all of Castiglioncello heard of her ruin. Strange as it may seem, she was pitied rather than disdained, but in many ways that was worse.

Now it happened that one night she awoke to find a very attractive woman in her room by the balcony. She started up in horror, but to her surprise she could not move to call her maid or cry out.

"Agnella you have been ill-treated, but when your child is born you must give it to me. Once you are avenged you must build a palace in my name. I will tell you my name when you give me your babe," the woman said and promptly faded into the moonlight.

You may imagine Agnella's astonishment at this visitation. She was not sure how she felt about her illegitimate child being taken from her. On the one hand the child must remind her of the cruel father, but on the other, a child is not at fault for the actions of it's parents. She lay back on the pillows and fell asleep. When she awoke the following morning she was sure she had dreamed the incident and that it could not possibly be real.

Before long however she was delivered of a beautiful baby girl and as she fell asleep exhausted at the delivery, she heard strange yet gentle music. She dreamed, or so she writes in her diaries, that the beautiful woman came to her in a meadow and kissed her.

"Don't forget to build my palace when you are avenged. Name it after the Queen Amasella. When you awake no-one will remember that you have given birth. Your child will be with me and I will keep her safe and well. She will return to you when you are a very old woman," the woman told her.

When Agnella awoke it was as the strange woman had told her. Her own body was clean and fresh and nobody remembered that she had ever been pregnant let alone given birth. Agnella kept her own counsel and said nothing to anyone. She continued her business from her home and did not go out, though she always read the journals and newspapers of the town.

Occasionally she wondered what her daughter was doing, what she looked like and if she was happy. A week later she read in the local newspaper that the man who was her daughter's father had been seduced and humiliated. He had left the city in disgrace - Agnella had been avenged. She built this building and it has been always called Casa Amasella after the faerie queen.

From that day forward Agnella went back out into the city. To her mild surprise, nobody recognised her. Not long after, she fell in love and married a good and honest man who helped her to build her business. After some time, she became pregnant again and gave birth to another girl child whom she called Elisabetta. She took great care of that girl and loved her becoming both a friend and mentor to her. Her husband also loved Elisabetta and cared for her.

So the women grew and aged and yet Agnella did not forget her firstborn. When Elisabetta was old enough, she told her of the sister she had and what had happened to her. She was told never to forget and to be kind to her sister when she should return to the family.

When Agnella grew old, Elisabetta had married and divorced. She returned to her mother's house and took care of her mother. It was one sunny bright, crisp Spring day when a young woman appeared in the garden of Agnella's house. Agnella had been sleeping in a chair under the cherry tree, which was pink with its blossom. The young woman approached her dressed in a red dress with green shoes and softly spoke,

"Mama are you fast asleep?"

Agnella was not fast asleep, but merely dozing and at the sound of a voice she awoke and gave a cry that brought Elisabetta to the door to the garden. She watched her mother reach up to the young woman and embrace her, sobbing.

Quietly, Elisabetta stepped into the garden and approached the young woman. Agnella kissed the young woman's face and held her hands tightly. At the sound of footsteps behind her, the young woman turned and looked into Elisabetta's eyes.

"Sister?" Elisabetta asked.

The young woman smiled and Elisabetta reached out to touch the young woman. But as the young woman stepped from the shade of the cherry tree into the sunlight, she faded and disappeared. Agnella gave a cry that broke her heart and she died that evening. From that moment on, Elisabetta dedicated her life to finding her sister again. She has not found her yet though she has not given up searching.

You smile my dear, how do I know that. I am Alegra Ferrara, the first born daughter of my mother, the woman who built this building. I too have been searching for Elisabetta."

She took another sip of coffee and gazed out of the large windows as if she were not a grown woman but a little child abandoned in a crowded city.

"I thought we might be able to help," Giovanna said softly to me.

Well, we are still looking, but like Alegra Ferrara we have not found Elisabetta just yet.

The Big Wheel

It was not that long ago that Vivien had been aware of magic and that she had met her true love. It was an unusual business that I was told of when I answered somebody else's comment on magic with derision. I was in a cafe - I am often in cafes these days, writing one thing or another. My friend smiled but we were interrupted politely and apologetically by Vivien.

"I know that magic is often called science unknown, but I have experienced true magic myself," she answered.

I had been about to dismiss her experience as purely rational, but she did not let me continue. Instead, with great gentleness she put up her hand to indicate that I was to be silent and let her continue. She was a quiet, middle-aged woman, her hair blonde with traces of white that looked elegant. Her eyes were a startling blue and her manner was calm so that I was hushed easily not wishing to offend her.

"I was young and I had not met my true love. I was sent to a college to study law, which I gave up in favour of my love of textiles. I learned there how to make textiles. One day I went for a walk and promptly became lost. I wandered aimlessly getting more and more lost until I found myself with the town behind me and a dry, dusty landscape ahead of me. I felt an unaccountable urge to wander into the shimmering landscape. For a moment I fought against it until I realised that I was already moving into it. To my surprise I found a large castle in the deserted landscape. I was so surprised that I stopped and gazed at it. As I did so, the gates opened and I felt urged to enter the castle.

I was drawn inside without knowing why. I was not a curious person and I still am not curious particularly. Still I entered to find a large hallway with a beautiful marble floor and a large table at the centre. An old man met me and told me that I was to work for him weaving fine cloth. I told him that I was still studying and that I was not an expert but he dismissed my objections.

"You shall weave for me and become my wife," he told me.

At this I became furious for I had no intention of marrying him. I was young and he was very old and not all that beautiful either. I told him that I would not marry him and he produced a large cage from out of the air. Within the cage was a lion with a very mournful countenance.

"This lion was once a handsome young prince whom I chose to be my butler. He refused and now he remains as he is. You will work for me and when the full moon comes you shall become my wife," he said.

I bowed my head. I did not wish to become his wife, but I did not wish him to transform me either. Quietly I agreed to weave for him, but I did not agree to become his wife. I was led by an empty suit of clothes upstairs and into a large chamber with one window that looked upon the deserted landscape. In the chamber there was a loom, a chair, a bed and a table. As soon as I entered the room, the door shut behind me and was locked. I was a prisoner of this old man, but I had been brought up not to despair.

I set up the loom and as I did so I began to think of how I might escape. The solution came to me almost instantly and as soon as I could I began to weave. In the evening I settled on the edge of the bed to sift through my resources. I had my handbag with me and within it was a bar of chocolate and I thought to save it should I need it in desperation. I rummaged through my handbag to see what else I had. I had my hairbrush, my make up bag and a little money. I also had a spare pair of knickers and tights, for which I was grateful.

The door opened and the empty suit of clothes entered with a tray of food. The door shut firmly behind it so that I could not slip out behind it. Once the tray had been placed upon the table, the suit of clothes left the room. I ate and drank diluting the wine with my tears, for my weariness had made me deeply sad at my plight. Having eaten I went to bed and slept deeply and dreamlessly, waking before the sun had risen.

Once I was awake I dressed and went to the window. Outside the sky was still dark and opening the window I leaned out over the sill. The room was a long way from the ground, yet I felt more determined than ever to escape. If I could not leave through the door I would leave through the window. I went back to the loom and continued to weave a narrow long cloth.

A little later the suit of clothes brought me breakfast and having eaten and taken coffee I returned to the loom. As I wove, I wondered about the lion. What had the handsome young prince looked like, I asked myself?

Not knowing, I shrugged and went on with my weaving. As I did so, I sang all the sad songs I knew. While I wove, the old man did not visit me, but I slowly became less afraid even as my sorrow deepened. If he wished to marry me, he would not harm me at least. I suddenly was drawn from my own thoughts by the sound of scratching at the door. I left the loom and went and listened at the door. I took hold of the handle and pulled at it, but it would not open. I growled at the door and at my futility but the door would not move. I returned to the loom and sat down breathing heavily. Then suddenly the door opened and as I arose, the sad lion padded into the room. I gasped and retreated behind the loom, but the lion entered the room and sat in the centre of the floor. I tried to shoo the animal but he shut his eyes slowly and then lay down with his head upon his large paws. I dare not come from behind the loom but after a while it occurred to me that the lion had not tried to hunt me behind the loom. I came a little way out and spoke softly to the lion. In another part of the castle I heard a shriek and part of the castle fell with a thundering crash. The lion raised his head and seemed to smile.

Then to my shock he spoke to me.

"Do not be afraid mistress," he said, "I mean you no harm at all. Your speaking with kindly to me has broken a part of the spell that binds me in this shape. Every day the old man who cursed me leaves and goes about the world to cause misery and mischief leaving this castle. I have learned to open all the doors of the castle except the main doors that lead to freedom. If you are willing, I can help you to escape and you can perhaps help me."

I was much surprised as you may imagine, but agreed to help the lion if I could, but I did not see what I might do. It occurred to me that the lion might be a servant of the old man in disguise, so I did not disclose my own plan to escape from the castle. Still the lion seemed to guess at it and told me that the old man required me to weave a cloak for him which he would imbue with magical powers over the affairs of men and the business of nature. He intended to gain all that he might have through these powers. He had seen me some time ago and decided that I should be his wife. The lion told me that I must promise to grant his wish in the future. It would not compromise me at all.

I agreed and with a sigh, the lion arose and left the room. I returned to my weaving considering all that the lion had told me. By the evening I had woven a long strip of cloth and hoped that it would reach the ground. I unfastened one end of the fabric and struggled to move the loom. But the loom was large and heavy and I could not move it at all. I cut the fabric from the loom and reset up the loom to weave new cloth.

I ate the supper brought for me and as soon as the tray had been collected I returned to the loom and wove through the night. Towards the morning I threw myself upon the bed and snoozed until I heard the door to the chamber open and my breakfast was set upon the table. I drank three large cups of coffee and ate as much as I could stomach before returning to the loom. I wove quickly until the door opened and once more the lion entered. He lay down beside me and again placed his large head upon his large paws. Cautiously, I caressed his shaggy mane and he sighed heavily.

All that day I wove until the lion left me and a little after that my supper was brought. Through much of the night I wove until I had a good long length of fabric. I bound the first piece of cloth to the second and bound both pieces to the loom. Now I gathered my handbag up and fixed it to me using my belt. I was about to fling the long cloth out of the window when the door to my room opened and in the starlight I saw the lion. Silently he padded in and whispered a word. The door shut behind him noiselessly and he passed me and sighed at the window. It opened and he turned to gaze upon me.

"Quickly mistress, the old man is drunk on his wine and sleeps deeply. I will leap after you are at the ground," he said quietly.

I threw the loose end of the fabric out of the window and climbed down it to the ground. For a moment I stood still, breathing in the cold night air. The lion peered from the sill above me. I pulled the fabric outwards and leaned backwards to anchor myself holding the fabric wide.

"Come slide down the centre of the fabric," I whispered to him.

He leaped onto the fabric and wriggled down until he was close enough to leap from the fabric to the ground. Then he bid me get upon his back and together we fled from the castle. Too soon it seemed our escape was discovered, for I heard a loud rumbling in the distance behind us. When I turned to look I saw a large metal wheel pursuing us. It glowed orange with the rage of the old man.

"Have you a mirror, mistress?" the lion asked.

When I told him I had he bid me throw it over my shoulder. I did so and a vast ocean suddenly appeared in the deserted landscape. This gave us time to get further away. The large wheel stopped turned into the old man who shook his fist at us and jumped up and down in fury. Then he turned into the wheel and rolled around the ocean.

The lion ran and headed towards a large city, but soon enough the large wheel was behind us again. I took out of my handbag my hairbrush and threw it over my shoulder at the lion's request. A great forest sprang up behind us and we heard through the trees a loud crash followed by what my aunt Rose calls, 'very unladylike language'.

Again we continued towards the city at the edge of the desert. I leaned over the mane of the lion and kissed him. In the distance I heard a loud shriek and the lion dashed away with renewed strength. Still, after a while the wheel was behind us again. I told the lion that I had only a pair of tights, my smalls and one bar of chocolate to throw over my shoulder.

"Then throw them mistress," the lion answered breathlessly.

I obeyed him for I saw no alternative. Where the tights landed a long ravine appeared. Where my knickers and the bar of chocolate landed neither did not change at all. Still the lion sped on, and I began to weep for I was sure that he should soon tire and we should both be once more enslaved or even killed. But the wheel was going too fast and went over the edge of the ravine and crashed upon its side. As it did it changed back into the old man who staggered forward. When his foot landed upon my knickers they folded up like a great silken flower about him. He shouted and thrust his hand out between the silken folds until his hand found the bar of chocolate. He grasped it and drew it back to him. The lion stopped, gasping and I dismounted, holding the dear creature in my arms, weeping with terror. As my tears fell upon him his fur darkened and I knew that I loved him.

From the knickers came another shriek and suddenly a large pillar of smoke issued up towards the sky and the ravine split swallowing the knickers in the dusty earth.

"If you have still your scissors mistress, I beg you remember your promise and thrust the blades into my heart. I cannot beg you enough," the lion said softly.

At first I refused but he reminded me of my promise and wept at the thought that I would not keep it. With horror I obeyed him and to my astonishment the lion vanished and the handsome young prince appeared with my scissors turned to silver buttons upon his coat. I hugged and kissed him with relief and we walked together into the city where we were wed. Some years later I returned here to finish my studies. But not once have I ever forgotten that the world is full of magic - and indeed science."

She got up and whispered a word then she pointed at our table. A cake had appeared and our coffee cups were refilled. Realising who she was, I apologised and we thanked her. She smiled her sweet smile and Queen Vivien left us.

I've been away from this blog since January, but only because I couldn't log on! Blogger wouldn't let me for some reason. This is the first time I've been able to log on.

Since the previous post much has happened that has taken a lot out of me, but I'm ready to write again. So far, this year has been very rough and the outlook doesn't look promising. But with so many people struggling around the world just to eat and keep a roof over their heads, I cannot yet complain.

So this is just to say that, Blogger willing, I'm back again. Watch this space... a story will appear... so long as I can log on in the morning!

Bridge of Locks

Eva had wanted coffee desperately. Her feet ached from walking for so long around Paris. She did not regret it. Paris like most cities was full of sights and wonders, mostly unofficial and transient as a flower-bloom. But the cafes were full and when she saw that there was a table with the young man alone at it, she asked if she might share it. He smiled briefly and gestured to the chair opposite. When he saw her Plan de Paris and heard her slightly awkwardly order a coffee he knew she was a tourist. At first he had asked simple questions of her; how long was she in Paris for, where was she from, how did she like the city. His accent was slight and he was pleasant and polite, Eva liked politeness in the young. She soon found herself at ease with him and soon enough asked him about all the padlocks on the fencing over one of the bridges.

    "Ah that, that's a story to move you at least a little," the young man said softly beckoning a waiter over.

It was almost lunchtime and the young man ordered a pot of coffee and a sandwich. Eva ordered a sandwich and cake - after all, she was on holiday. The waiter nodded, noted and left them.

   "Some years back, when I was still at school madame, there was a young lady from the Rue St Honore. A very, very respectable area if madame understands me," the young man began.

Eva nodded to show she understood and pushed her coffee cup to one side.

   "This mademoiselle used to walk across the bridge for her business studies tuition from Monsieur Saccard a very brilliant man so I've heard, I don't know for sure. Anyway the mademoiselle used to pass by a group of students and as she was beautiful but obviously rich, comments were made. One day it seems, a young musician on the bridge intervened and reminded the students that politeness cost nothing. The students sneered and rounded on him with their words. The musician defended himself well and without raising the temperature of anyone to violence. The mademoiselle was enchanted at the musician's wit and his willingness to defend her. She had always ignored the students as she passed trying to maintain her dignity, but she felt the barbs of their words nonetheless. She continued with her studies and would always leave money in the musician's hat if he was there. If he was not their, she missed him. The students remained and while they did not comment, they would sneer at her and bow in mock politeness and servitude.

Now it seemed that mademoiselle's father had employed a gentleman to follow her daughter to her classes and home again. When the gentleman remarked on the young musician, the father was at first grateful. He visited the musician when mademoiselle was at her classes and offered the musician his gratitude which the man took and a some large sum, which the man refused.

   "A Franc or two will be enough in appreciation of my music, monsieur," he answered politely.

The father did not understand this. He had always sought money and power and could not understand anyone not wishing to do the same. Is it not typical madame that we measure others with our own desires and aspirations?" the young man asked Eva.

She gave a little laugh and nodded in agreement. The waiter brought their lunch and the pot of coffee. Eva paid for it all and the young man thanked her and offered her the cost of the coffee and his sandwich.

   "Consider it my contribution to the meal," she said with a warm smile and he bowed in his seat and thanked her.

He poured them both fresh coffee and took a bite of his sandwich, chewing it carefully. Then he continued,

   "Ah now then... yes, the father thanked the musician again and returned home a little troubled. Still mademoiselle continued her classes through the summer and little by little as you may guess madame, they fell in love. Shyly at first, the love of glances and quick little smiles, but soon enough mademoiselle would pause and talk to the musician. He would sing a song for her and she would bring him something to eat on her way home. All this was reported to the father by the gentleman.

The father confronted his daughter," the young man shook his head.

   "It's the same story madame, old as time itself. Every father has thought he could command his daughter to protect her from undesirable men. Yet every man will be undesirable for his precious daughter, but no father ever learns - in my experience at least. So this father commanded his daughter not to see the musician again. The result - the predictable result madame, was that firstly mademoiselle laid down her own rules concerning herself and her rights. The second was that mademoiselle was driven into the arms of the musician to 'teach papa a lesson'. It is your English Shakespeare who says, 'Lord, what fools these mortals be' I think. Neither mademoiselle nor papa could see their own folly only the folly of the other.

It is perhaps fortunate that the musician was a good man of whom there are not nearly enough. My mother always taught me to be worthy of a woman in order to be worthy of myself. An excellent maxim, but not all women are worthy any more than men. We are all foolish at one time or another in our well-meaning efforts to get along as best we can, I think," the young man said thoughtfully taking another bite of his sandwich.

   "Monsieur is quite the philosopher," Eva remarked gently.
   The young man chuckled at that.
   "Madame, all students get philosophical sooner or later! Ah well forgive me, so much folly and I am sure I have my fair share of it too.
   Well after some time the angry father locked the daughter up at home and put a large steel padlock on the door to the street so that she might not get out without his permission - which by the way he had no intention of giving. This was 'protecting his daughter' in his mind and 'being unreasonable and stupid' in his daughter's mind. in truth they were both as unreasoning as each other. The musician missed her passing by and knowing from her where she lived, he stood outside her house and played songs to her. The father was furious as you may imagine. At first he warned the musician off, then when that did not work he threatened the man. That did not work either. So the father came up with a terrible idea. He had two men visit the musician and take him back to his pitch on the bridge. There he was chained to the bridge and padlocked to it. The key was then thrown into the river. The students asked him what the padlock and chain was all about and when he told them they brought him food and clothing. They spread the word and wrote about the lovers. Eh bien madame, this is Paris, the city of lovers, naturally the father came out badly. The women of the city adored the musician and were furious with the father. The men of the city kept their peace and let their daughters have a little more freedom but watched them anxiously as I suppose every father does.

Then one morning a few lovers attached padlocks with their names written on them and ribbons attached to the fencing. They fed the musician and gave him coffee. They put up a drape around him and gave him warm water to bathe and new clothes. His friends helped him too. A week later the father came to him and told him that if he would forget his daughter the chain would be cut and he would be freed. He laughed and remarked that he had refused offers to cut the chain though he had received many such offers. He loved mademoiselle and nobody else. The father began to get cross, for he realised that he had already lost. His daughter was pining away, refusing food and drink until she might be with her love. He growled and cut the chains anyway telling the man to be off.

   "You cannot chain love monsieur, your daughter is still her father's prisoner," the musician replied.

The father was about to make some angry comment when three more lovers came and attached padlocks to the fencing of the bridge. The father frowned and asked them what on earth they were doing.

   "It is our sympathy for all those lovers who are separated by the hard-hearted. Their love is our love," the lovers told him.

The father then hung his head in shame for he realised his folly then. He returned home deep in thought, followed though he was not aware of it, by the musician. He entered the house and removed the padlock. Almost immediately after he shut the door behind him, the musician began to play his guitar and sing to his love. Behind her windows mademoiselle heard her young man and burst into tears. She called for food and ate a little. Then she took the rest and tiptoed out of the house, quietly noticed by her father who sat in his study with his head in his hands.

Once out of the house, mademoiselle shared her breakfast with her musician who, shocked at her condition took her to a cafe and fed her. He took her home with him to his apartment in Montmartre and cared for her. After a little while he wrote to her father and arranged a meeting with him. The result was that the lovers were wed for the father could see that this man loved his daughter as much as he did and a little more. Which is as it should be. The padlocks remain on the bridge as a symbol of lovers locked in love no matter who or what shall keep them apart."

    "It sounds like a contemporary fairytale," Eva told the young serious man.
   "More a tale of the sympathy the world has for lovers," the young man replied.

They finished their meal and went their separate ways, but Eva wrote down the tale in her journal and did not forget it. It was for her one of those beautiful moments that are as transient as a bottle flowing along a river passing quickly but memorable on its own terms.

The Loving Mother

A long time ago there was a woman who had three daughters whom she loved greatly. Each of them became fine needlewomen. The eldest, Daisy was an excellent weaver, the middle one Holly was a superb dressmaker and tailor; the youngest Rose was fabulous at embroidery. They became better at all the crafts of needlework until they were known for being the finest in Sussex where they lived.

Now it happened that one day an old man arrived at their workshop and told them that their services were wanted. The girls wondered if they had time to do the work for they were in the middle of a great deal of work already. Sadly they told him they would have to decline. The man shrugged and went away shaking his head and sighing.

Soon after, their mother sickened and took to her bed. She was no fool, she knew that there was a dark magic at work, but she called her daughters to her and told them to bring her three horseshoes. This was done and the sickness weakened in her, but still it persisted. She asked for salt and scattered it around her bed, but it was too late and she died.

Her daughters were struck deep with grief for they had loved their mother as sky loves sun and cats love fish. They wept until the old man returned to their workshop with a tall and imperious woman.

"You mother is gone and will never return unless you know her well," the woman told them.

She had hair as black as a raven's wing, eyes as green as spring leaves, skin pale and slightly green and lips as red as holly berries. When she smiled there was something dangerous about her. When she frowned it was as if a storm was gathering.

"There are ten trees in the Public Park, if you can guess which one is your mother she shall be returned to you. If not then I shall turn the three of you into a Daisy a Holly bush and a Rose bush. If I return your mother to you, I shall expect you to make the dress, veil, and shoes and the underwear I demand," the woman told them.

Then with a flick of her black hair she left them, the old man following her shaking his head and sighing. The young women were furious and upset. Daisy went to the Park and walked among the trees. They were all oaks, but below one of them she noticed a small clump of daisies. She looked up at the tree, curtsied and said softly,

"Come back to us well, mama," she said.

Then she went home and as she went a storm seemed to be gathering. The next day, Holly went to the Park and walked among the trees weeping. She sighed and thought of her mother until she noticed a small holly bush below one of the trees. She curtsied and said softly,

"I love you mama, come back to us soon."

She went home and a storm gathered over the Park. Clouds darkened the sky and a wind blew her hair about. The following day, Rose went to the Park and walked among the trees. She caressed all the trees and below one of them she saw a beautiful pink-orange rose growing. She stepped back from the tree and curtsied before saying,

"Come mama, let us go home together."

The clouds gathered and blackened. The wind picked up and suddenly it began to rain heavily. The oak seemed to shrink it's branches and and slowly became a woman. It was the mother of the three young women. Rose handed her mother her coat and kissed her. They went home together and the young women now set to work to make the faery's clothes. But with their mother's advice and help they sewed into all of the clothes, fine small pieces of iron.

The dress was of the finest silk, the shoes of velvet, the veil of fine gauze and the underwear of brushed cotton, finely embroidered. Anyone would have loved these clothes.

On the fourth day, the faery arrived with the old man. The young women had placed the clothes in the back bedroom where the faery might try them on in peace. Over the window was a horseshoe. The faery went into the room and shut the door. The young women heard her retch, then gasp. A painful thin hiss was followed by a scream. The bedroom door suddenly flew open and the faery staggered from the room her hand on her chest where her heart would have been if she'd had one. The old man stared at the faery then sighed. He turned and walked away, shaking his head and shaking his head in despair.

Suddenly,  the faery let out a howling screech and vanished. She was never seen again and the clothes were burned. The ashes were scattered around the roots of the trees in the Park. 

The Temple of Diana - at Siena

A very long time ago a Duke of Siena wished to marry a beautiful young woman by the name of Laura. She was the daughter of a wealthy merchant and was much sought after by many of the young men of Siena. She however wished only to play her mandolin and read the books in her father's house. She soon left the mandolin when her careful study of her father's many books gave her an interest in art and the making of beautiful things.

It might be thought that the Duke himself would prefer a more genteel woman for a wife rather than this artisan, beautiful and wise though she was. Yet it seemed that the more she made herself an artisan - to the shame of her parents who did not understand her at all, the more the Duke was smitten with her. He gave her father all kinds of offers in return for Laura's hand in marriage, dowries of considerable sum and value. To them all Laura refused saying that she preferred to marry only the man she loved and while she respected the Duke up to a point, she was not in love with him in the least.

"Surely his grace would prefer a woman with more pleasure in keeping her Lord's house and bearing his children," she said.

"Would you not wish to be that woman, the helpmeet of my days and the love of my life, beautiful Laura?" the Duke asked her.

"I respect my Lord and love him as a citizen should, but I am not in love nor do I wish to be an accessory either to a Duke or even a King," she answered, adding "I'm no good for that, there's a mind inside this head and I have too much I want to do of my own."

Still the Duke persisted, believing that she wished only to be wooed. He sent her flowers; she planted them in public gardens. He sent her sonnets, she gave them to her mother. He sent her fine jewellery; she gave them to her sister. He sent her a fine mandolin, she sent it back to him. He sent her dresses of fine fabrics, she sent them to his mother who said nothing, but smiled, for she liked the spirit of the young woman.

Now it happened one day that the Duke, coming home from hunting and having caught nothing came very near to falling from his horse and down the side of a steep hill. Should he have fallen, he would undoubtedly have been killed and it occurred to him that he had no heir to his throne. This thought filled his thoughts until he took himself to the house of the di Monti and demanded that Laura should marry him that very Saturday.

Laura was furious. She knew that until now the Duke had indulged her for he wished her to love him. But she knew also that his word in Siena was law and none dare oppose him. She was but one woman in the city and she could not resist the law of the city. So she shut herself up in her workshop and made many plans all of which gave her no satisfaction at all. She could not leave the centre of Siena for the Duke's men were everywhere and would not disobey him.

That evening, the Duke told his mother everything and she frowned. She liked Laura and she of course, loved her son, but she did not want any wife of his not to love him.

"I am the Duke of Siena by order of the King himself. In this city I will have obedience from all my subjects. Besides which I do her a great service marrying her into the ducal family of Siena. She will obey and I will have heirs to continue my family line," the Duke told his mother who shook her head and threw up her hands in despair.

That night, there was a new moon, the Maiden Moon as the Siennese called it. Laura struggled to sleep and so rose from her bed to work on her flying machine. She did several equations and wished she had lighter materials to work with, but her machine would not fly. It must either be bigger and so heavier or smaller and therefore too heavy to fly.

The Duke's mother quietly left Siena that night for the hills around the city and changed from her rich red velvet dress to a white silk shift. She would no doubt at all have been hung for a witch had she been seen, but she wore a mask of silver and gloves of grey silk. She was no witch but a follower of Diana, an ancient order.

Clouds drifted across the new crescent moon and veiled the woods and ancient mountains around Siena as the Duke's mother Giulietta rode her palfrey through a thick forest accompanied only by six women similarly clad in the pale colours of her order. These six women were armed and ready to defend Giulietta to their last drops of blood. In a clearing in the woods was a ruined building. A great hall, it's roof fallen in a long time ago let in the night jewelled with stars and the crescent moon. Through this hall, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Giulietta and her acolytes drifted, a faint breeze plucking tenderly at their pale shifts.

At the other end of the hall lay an antechamber through which the women went before descending a stone stair until they came to a high vaulted chamber that was lit by other similarly dressed women bearing lanterns. Giulietta bowed and took her place. That night many prayers were said to the goddess Diana whose pale crescent was once again in the sky. Giulietta's prayer was one of those. She prayed to the goddess to advise her, for fear that her son might do something he should later come to regret.

The following day, the Duke went out to hunt. He found himself a little way ahead of his fellows when a white hart appeared before him and ran away through the wood. The Duke blew his horn and pursued the hart. No matter how fast his horse ran the hart remained always in view but beyond his crossbow quarrel's reach. It is said that he went deep into the wood and what happened to him there is unknown but some hours later he appeared to his fellows. They had been searching for him for some time with great anxiety but he would say nothing only preferring to return to Siena.

That afternoon he proclaimed that all the woman of Siena should be free to marry who they wished and that his own marriage to Laura di Monti was off. Laura was amazed though grateful and recommended to Bianca Casareggio that she might persuade the Duke to marry her. Bianca blushed and thanked Laura. The Duke's mother visited Laura that evening and ordered a thousand ceramic tiles; diamond shaped with the crescent moon on a blue ground. Laura was happy to oblige.

The Duke of Siena was married that Saturday to Bianca Casareggio a lady of some quiet, gentle beauty. And the temple of Diana in the Wood was proud to initiate Laura di Monti that night into the order of the Goddess. That is why the crescent moon features in Siena, for quietly behind all the men is the order of Diana in the Wood.