The Magic Tears

: The Faery Tales Of Weir

There was once a king named Theophile who lived in a dim castle on the

edge of the ocean, but so far above the water that the flying spray never

reached its lowest terrace; and only the strongest-winged seagulls could

circle its towers and turrets. It was a strange, melancholy, beautiful

place, where the light shimmered on the walls like the ripple of water,

and in the shadows of the massive walls the flowers waved all day in the
/>
sea-wind like little princesses who would dance before they died.



King Theophile had led many armies to victory, driving his golden

white-sailed boats upon far-off coasts, but from each conquest he

returned the sadder because he had made many people hate him, and had won

no one's love. Nor could he find a woman who would wed him, because of

the sorrows of his line, which were great.



When he was not at war he would labor for his kingdom until sunset, and

at that hour he would leave his Council Chamber to pace the terraces and

gaze seaward over the rocking blue-green waves, while his minstrels sang

to him. Only music could drive away his care, so always a page with a

golden harp followed him. Sometimes he would bid everyone be gone but

this boy, and the two would glide like shadows through the long galleries

where the bluish tapestries hung; or brood together by the roaring fire

when the sleet rattled on the casements.



One spring day when it seemed as if even the ocean air wafted the

fragrance of little pale flowers and the sun shone warmly on the old gray

walls of the castle, the King and the boy wandered into the garden of the

white lilacs; where, on a marble bench, King Theophile seated himself,

and listened while the boy sang:



"My love came out of an old dream,

And took away my peace;

And now I dare not sleep again,

Until this heartache cease."



"Did he ever know slumber again, I wonder," said the King. "O boy, of

what use are your love-songs!"



"To arouse love in your heart, Sire!"



"What good is that when I have no maiden to love!"



"Listen, Sire," said the boy. "You are going to war with King Mace who

has a most beautiful daughter, the Princess Elene. When you have

overthrown him, bring her to your kingdom and wed her."



"A strange way to win the love of a woman," said the King, "by invading

her father's kingdom. Nevertheless, I will have regard to the maiden."



"I have heard," said the page, "that they who once behold her are

restless ever afterwards from the wound of her beauty."



The King nodded wearily. "There are women like that--gleams from lost

stars; faces seen at sunset; or where the light is lifting after a storm.

I have never cast eyes on such a maid."



"When you see the Princess Elene you will behold her," said the page.



"I will set forth to war immediately," announced the King.



Soon thereafter he sailed away, and over the rocking billows went the

golden boats until they drove upon the coasts of King Mace's land, where

bitter battles were fought and many men laid asleep with the sword. Then

came a day when all was quiet, and even King Mace pillowed his royal head

on his dead horse, and woke no more.



Then King Theophile entered the little sunny palace where all was so

silent, and strode through the echoing corridors to the throne room.

There alone, beneath a canopy of azure satin, on the great throne sat a

woman whose face was like a gleam from a lost star. She had proud lips,

and hair that was like cloth of gold about her, and eyes that were wells

of sorrow. When he beheld her, King Theophile's limbs became as weak as a

new-born child's, and he heard the sound of a far-off wind that had

traveled from the Kingdom of Lost Hope. He knew that henceforth for him

there must be either love or death.



"O Princess," he cried, "they are all asleep. But thou and I are awake."



"Nay," she replied, "they are awake. Their spirits crowd this hall to

wring my heart with pity; but thou art asleep."



Her words were like a sword in his breast, and kneeling before her, he

cried: "Come with me to my Kingdom. Thou art my only Love."



"Thou mayst force me to wed thee," she replied, "but the sword which can

slay, can never wake love to life. Thou hast come to the end of thy

conquests."



Then King Theophile tasted the bitterness of death as the men who slept

from the stroke of his sword could never taste it. And because he was not

a man to put his soul into the keeping of his tongue, he made no answer,

but in his secret heart he resolved to win her love, though the adventure

cost him years of pain.



So while he lingered in her kingdom, building costly monuments to the

dead, and showering gold on the wounded, and sending into fine houses the

homeless whose hearts ached for vanished humble hearths; while he worked

to draw life out of death, he spared no effort to bring a smile to the

lips of the Princess Elene.



But she never smiled, and though her heart was breaking, she could not

weep. Often she said to her women, "Pray that I may have the gift of

tears," but always her eyes remained dry, like the vision of those who

have gazed too long on fire.



To King Theophile she seemed the very Beauty of the World, as in her

black robes she sat in her garden at her tapestry frame, or listened with

veiled eyes to the singing of his minstrels. And in his heart was a

battle greater than any he had ever waged in desolated lands, for his

nobler self told him he had no right to wed her. But his wild love drove

like a tempest across these whispers.






So at last he married her in the dim cathedral church of her dead

father's kingdom, with pomp of flowers and lights and nuptial music, and

she was as pale as those who live long underground.



Then the golden boats drove home across the rocking billows, and one day

the Queen Elene, as she was now titled, lifted her eyes and beheld the

gaunt castle of King Theophile cutting the sky. A mist seemed to hang all

its turrets with fog and vapor. Elene remembered the shining happy little

castle of her vanished kingdom, and her heart was bitter with tears, but

she could not shed them.



King Theophile, gazing upon her face, read her thoughts, for he had the

second-sight of lovers; and his heart was as lead in his breast. He was

jealous of the very years when he had not known her. Her beauty troubled

him like a half remembered name, and when he was in her presence he had

the trembling of illness upon him, and when away from her he was as

restless as a fallen leaf that the wind blows.



Through many days and weeks he wooed her to bring the smile to her lips,

but always she grew whiter and more desolate; so that when she walked the

terraces above the boiling surf, she seemed like a white flower torn of

its petals and tossed up by the bitter waves.



At the end of a year there came a daughter from the Kingdom of the Little

Souls, and lay like a white bud on the Queen's bosom. Then at last Elene

smiled and wept, but her strength was gone; and soon afterwards she

closed her eyes and went to sleep.



King Theophile's heart was broken, for the baby, and not he, himself, had

made Elene smile and weep. When the days of the court mourning were over

the little daughter was christened, and to her christening came all the

wise women of the kingdom. Each told what this child would be. One said,

"She will have the beauty of shimmering rainbows"; another, "She will be

as wise as she is good." But the Wisest Woman of all said, "Every person

will read his future in her tears."



Now this prophecy troubled King Theophile and awoke love in his heart for

his little daughter, who was already showing how beautiful she would be

some day. So he watched over her, and made one of his echoing rooms into

the royal nursery.



Now the nurses knew what the Wisest Woman had said--that the tears of

this Princess would be a magic mirror of the future; and one day when

the child was two years old, the head nurse, who had a sweetheart and

wished to know whether she would marry him, resolved to make the

little girl cry.



Now she was puzzled how to do this, for the royal maid was sweet-tempered

and obedient; but the nurse knew that Elene loved most dearly a beautiful

doll as big as herself, so one afternoon, when the Princess was clasping

this treasure to her little breast, the nurse making sure first that no

one was looking, snatched it from her and threw it into the sea.






The baby-princess when she saw her darling doll falling into the water

began to wail, and tears came into her eyes. Then her nurse knelt before

her, and saw in those tears her own wedding. So happy was she over this

sight that she jumped up and began to caper about, heeding not the sobs

of the poor little Princess.



But King Theophile heard them and came out with a face of thunder.

"Woman," he cried, "why do you dance when a princess weeps?"



Then the nurse came to her senses and grew gray with fear. She tried to

mutter some excuse, but King Theophile dismissed her on the spot and

gathering up his baby into his arms, took her into the nursery, and wiped

away her tears. Yet her sobs did not cease and she was too little to tell

him of her woe.



The nurse, though she left the King's service, did marry immediately; and

began to whisper how she had seen her wedding in the tears of the

Princess Elene, which word was to work out cruelly for the royal child.

From that day on those about her, though they loved her dearly, could not

refrain from trying their fortune in her tears. As she grew older and

more understanding it was a difficult matter to know how to make her cry

without incurring suspicion.



But even a wrong will finds its way, and little Elene grew up wondering

why people were so unkind to her; and why there was so much sadness in

the world, for when all else failed the minstrels could make her weep by

singing of "old, unhappy far-off things, and battles long-ago."



King Theophile did not know of these troubles of his little daughter, for

she had learned early that her tears hurt him, so she concealed them from

him. All his joy was now in her, for she was the very image of her dead

mother, and beautiful as a dawn of May day. When she danced she was like

the light that ripples over the flowers; when she sang the souls of all

young birds seemed to float on her voice.



The fame of her beauty went through many kingdoms, and with the legend of

her loveliness was told the strange tale of her magic tears.



Now three young princes from three great States, fell ardently in love

with Elene from the mere breath of the rumor of her charms. The first was

Prince Tristan, the second Prince Martin, the third Prince Lorenzo; and

both Prince Tristan and Prince Martin were sure of winning.



But Prince Lorenzo was not at all sure, because he had lost much in his

short life, and knew that love is like the wind that comes and goes; like

the fire that leaps into the night and is seen no more; like the star

that flashes across the dark zenith and then vanishes.



One May morning the three Princes arrived to try their fortunes and to

sue for the hand of the Princess Elene. Prince Tristan, who was straight

and handsome, put on his best white satin doublet and stuck a rose behind

his ear. Prince Martin put on glittering armor like a knight going to

battle; but Prince Lorenzo was so consumed with love that he thought not

at all of what he wore.



King Theophile himself led them into the presence of the Princess Elene,

who was clad in a silk robe that shimmered like a rainbow, and who looked

so beautiful that for an instant Prince Lorenzo put his hand before his

eyes. The two other princes gazed straight at the lady; then made grand

sweeping bows.



"May I tell you," said Prince Tristan, holding out his rose, "that you

are the most beautiful princess I have ever seen?"



"May I tell you," said Prince Martin, "that your eyes are like stars?"



Prince Lorenzo remained mute because his heart was too full for speech,

and King Theophile looked coldly upon him; but the Princess Elene gazed

at him until he blushed. Then she seated herself on her throne and bade

the princes speak to her of what pleased them best.



Prince Tristan began at once to tell her of his hunting exploits, and

what joy he took in the chase. But the Princess's face grew colder and

colder as she listened, for she loved all living things, and could not

bear to see any of them hurt. Tristan did not observe this, for like all

vain people, he was thinking of his own charms, and so was unaware of the

effect he was producing.



He finished with a flourish, and Prince Martin stumbled in on the last

words, so eager was he to render in his turn a glowing account of all his

fine deeds. These were not few, for he was a brave lad, so for an hour he

discoursed upon tourneys and battles; nor did he observe that the

Princess Elene grew pale--and trembled, for her mother's sorrow over war

lived again in her heart.



To her relief he came at last to the end of his recital; then with a sigh

Elene turned her beautiful eyes upon Prince Lorenzo. "And what have you

to tell me, my Prince?"



For answer he said to a page, "Give me thy harp"; and when it was

delivered to him he struck the strings and sang:



"In the hour of the white moths flying

Beneath the great gray moon,

My sad heart was a-sighing

Lest love should come too soon.



"In the hour of the dawn-birds flying

Each to his feathery mate,

My sad heart was a-sighing

Lest love should come too late.



"Thy spirit heard my voicing,

And bade me cease from fears,

And follow thee, rejoicing,

Beyond all time and tears."



"It is a beautiful song," said the Princess. "And it would be sweet to

follow someone beyond time and tears."



Then Prince Tristan and Prince Martin looked enviously at Prince Lorenzo;

and Prince Martin said contemptuously, "I did not know that thou wert a

minstrel."



"Thou mayst yet discover that I am a shoemaker," returned Lorenzo. "Also,

if there were no carpenters in the world we should all be houseless. A

carpenter may, indeed, be of more use than a princeling."



Tristan looked at Elene to see how she bore the shock of hearing such

people mentioned as carpenters and shoemakers; but she was smiling as if

Lorenzo's words pleased her.



The three princes stayed on at the Castle, and the court was very gay.

Only King Theophile's heart was heavy, for he knew that he must lose his

most beautiful daughter. She was equally kind to all her suitors, and he

could not discover which prince she favored. So one evening he came to

her in her octagon room, which was of white ivory and whose windows were

hung with coral silk; and he found her spinning with her maidens. Her

robe of lace rippled about her little feet, and the band of sapphires

which held back her yellow hair were not as blue as her eyes.



King Theophile dismissed the maidens, and seating himself beside his

daughter he took her hand and said:



"O ray of sunlight out of a great sorrow, tell me in the name of thy dead

mother, to whom thou hast given thine heart?"



But the Princess veiled her eyes and drooped her head, for a burden was

upon her soul. "My father," she said, "a prince can not easily be a

lover, for love has but one object, and in the life of a prince are many

objects. I would be loved, but fine words are no proof of a heart."



"Prince Tristan is a noble youth."



"He is too fond of killing," replied Elene.



King Theophile's cheeks grew pale, for he thought of the long-ago wars

and men asleep in crimson meadows that had once been green.



"Prince Martin is a gallant lad."



"He would rather contend with others than with himself," said the

Princess.



"As for Prince Lorenzo, he dreams too much."



"Dreamers oft know more than those who are awake," replied Elene.



King Theophile sighed, for when his Princess spoke in this wise she

seemed to pass from his arms into the arms of her dead mother. Now when

Elene heard him sigh her heart was touched, for she loved him dearly.



"King-Father, do not sigh. I will make my choice, and this will be the

manner of my choosing. Thou knowst my tears can show the future."



Then the King grew pale, for he thought of the mother who could not weep

until the little daughter was laid upon her breast.



"My three suitors may try their fortunes through my tears one week from,

this night; that is--" she added, "if they have power to make me weep. He

who beholds me weep, him will I wed."



The King was sad when he heard this, but he saw it was her will and

refrained from protest. Next day he announced to the court and to

the three suitors through what means the Princess Elene would make

her decision.



From that day on Elene saw little of the three princes, for Prince

Lorenzo was wandering off in the forests alone and Prince Martin and

Prince Tristan were trying pathos on the maids of honor, each vying with

the other to tell the saddest tales. They succeeded so well that the

noble maidens nearly cried their eyes out. King Theophile was much

embarrassed to come, in his walks, upon a little maid of honor weeping

into her handkerchief, while a Prince discoursed at her feet.



At last the week wore away, and the court assembled for what someone

called the Trial of Tears. A thousand wax candles were lit in the

glittering throne room. King Theophile sat upon his throne, and on his

right hand was the Princess Elene, crowned with white roses, and robed in

white silk which had a shimmer of gold in its folds. At the foot of the

throne sat the three princes.



When all were assembled the King arose and announced the intention of

the Princess to give her hand to him who should behold in her tears

her wedding.



Prince Tristan was the first to try his fortune. He had chosen the tale

of a young girl cruelly turned adrift in a forest and left there to die,

and he related it with every circumstance that could render it more

piteous. Soon every lady in the court was weeping, but to the eyes of the

Princess Elene came no tears, which made Prince Tristan angry, so that he

finished his tale in a sullen muttering voice.



Then Prince Martin rose and told a story of little children who had

climbed into a boat which the rising tide seized and carried out to sea.

They were too little to be afraid, and only when starvation seized them

did they begin to wail for their mothers.



This story, related in a soft, melancholy voice, touched all hearts, and

through the court there was the sound of weeping, but the Princess gazed

straight before her, and her eyes were dry.



Prince Martin ended his tale with real sadness, for he saw that the

Princess Elene was unmoved by his narrative, and with drooping head he

returned to his seat.



Then rose Prince Lorenzo and bowed low before the Princess. "Even to win

you," he said, "I would not have you shed tears, for you have been made

to shed too many in your short life."



He had scarcely uttered these words when the Princess's lip quivered like

that of a little child and sudden tears welled up in her eyes. As they

fell Lorenzo went quickly to her, and gazing upon her face, gave a cry of

joy. "O my Love!" he exclaimed. "I see thee all in a white veil and I am

by thy side!"



Then smiling through her tears, she arose and held out her hand to him,

and the court knew that he was the chosen one. He knelt before her and

kissed her hand, while the heralds proclaimed him the victor.



So they were married and lived happily ever afterwards, for she was a

true Princess and he was a true Prince.



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