Tales From Cornwall: A History Of The Hubelaires

7. No Other Man

While this is the seventh in the over-all series of Tales From Cornwall, it is the third of five dealing with Cecil, Overlord of Cornwall. It followed The Battle of the Toads and The Tailed Man of Cornwall in rapid succession in WEIRD TALES, in 1929; then nearly a year passed before we saw the next story; the fifth has never been published. DAVID H. KELLER, M. D. (1880–1966) already had a substantial reputation among lovers of fantasy, science fiction, and weird tales before September 1929, when the first of his Cornwall stories to be published appeared. Followers of WEIRD TALES had seen memorable short-short stories, such as The Dogs of Salem, and The Jelly Fish; lovers of science fiction had seen The Revolt of the Pedestrians, The Menace (where Taine of San Francisco made his first appearance in print), and The Psychophonic Nurse; and the powerful (albeit implausible) The Human Termites was running simultaneously in the October issue of SCIENCE WONDER STORIES. Needless to say, the Cecil sequence was unlike anything that had been seen from Dr. Keller's hands before, and the readers’ requests for more were loud and persistent.

Ever since I slew the dragon of Thorp’s Woods, the people of Cornwall thought all they need do in time of trouble was to come to me. For a while I tried to be considerate, thinking it was part of my duties as Overlord of Cornwall to kill serpents, hang robbers, destroy giants and, in every way, make the country a pleasant and safe place to live in. Unfortunately these high ideals left little leisure to devote to my reading and the writing of my autobiography. Often I was no sooner back from one adventure, comfortably clad in velvets and starting to write my book, than a fresh emergency made it necessary to put on my armor once again and sally forth to punish more brigands or sever the head of another slithering snake. In winter the harness and armor were so cold that only after some hours of riding did my gooseflesh subside and enable me to ride my charger with any comfort.

Finally, for some weeks, everything was quiet in Cornwall. If any dragons remained, they thought it best to hide in their secret caves. All the robbers had fled to Wales or Armorica.

The slain giants were rotting in their gore. As far as my sway extended, all was peaceful, and I felt I had earned a period of relaxation. Though it was early spring, it was still cold and the roads were deep in mire. My stallion was comfortable, kneedeep in straw and munching the best grain my peasants could raise. I had large logs in the fireplace, new cushions to sit on, a woolen shawl for my knees and another for my shoulders, and wine on the table. I kept writing the history of my life, which was rapidly being filled with weird and unusual adventures. Why should I worry about wrongs done in Wales or the lands of the Irish and Scots?

Then, after three weeks of comfort, two old folks came, bringing with them a long parchment, bearing the signature of Cadwyn, King of Wales. I had heard rumors that Harold had been poisoned but had paid them no heed since the Welsh were given to changing their kings, in one way or another, every few months. But the parchment with signature and seal had so impressed my seneschal that he had admitted the old man and woman bearing the parchment and even brought them to the door of the library. When I tossed the paper to one side, refused to see them, and ordered them fed and removed from the castle, they raised such a lamentation that I ordered them fed at once, which promised listen to their story.

They were cold and wet, so I placed them by the fire and requested them for the sake of good Saint Jerome, to fill up and get warm. Thus I gained an extra half-hour to write in my book and when I saw this much time had slipped down the narrow channel of the sand-glass, during which period I had written two pages, I was very much cheered and almost tempted to be civil to my plebeian visitors.

The story they, told was a familiar one. Their daughter had been stolen and they believed she was being held a prisoner in one of the mountain caves a dozen miles from their hut. What manner of man or beast had done this foul deed they knew not; there were strange tales about the horrific fiends who inhabited that particular mountain. They had been to see their king and he had asked his knights to rescue the maiden, but one and all refused to undertake the adventure. The king decided to tell me about the wrong done to these ancients and ask me to right it. As they became more excited, they raised their hands and cried that never was there such a lovely maiden as their daughter or one so pure, and why had the Saints permitted this terrible thing to happen to her?

Naturally I was sorry for them, but I was irritated, for it seemed to me that I was being imposed upon and that the knights of Wales ought to attend to their own giants and dragons; so, when they finally came to the end of their tale, I gruffly said: “Why come to me with your troubles? Any brave man can find your daughter and there must be many a valiant knight in your own land.”

At that they cried out that I was wrong, and the woman said over and over again, “No other man! No other man! No other man!” — which was all stupid nonsense, both foolish and far from the truth.

However, it all ended in my telling them to go to bed and sleep promising that on the morrow would return with them and I see what could be done concerning the rescue of their daughter, though I doubted that she was still alive. Sending them off to a good night’s rest, I ordered fresh logs put on the fire and some spiced beer warmed for my comfort and then started to read the adventures of a good knight named Hercules, who was either a better fighter or a better liar than I could ever hope to be. Finally, I sought the warmth of my featherbed and, disturbed in mind, waited for what the morrow might bring.

The next day, in a drizzle of rain, we started for some town in Wales, the proper sounding of whose name never I did learn. The old dame and her man rode slowly ahead on two sorry pads, while I rode behind them on my favorite stallion.

The woolens and leather I wore under my armor had been well warmed and greased ere I donned them, but the day was chill and in no time at all I became depressed by the cold of my armor. I tried to pass the time reciting Latin verbs, which made the old folks shiver and cross themselves, for they thought my mutterings to be imprecations and incantations against the power of the Evil One. Now and then my stallion reared in the air and neighed, perhaps for his warm stall and hearty meals of grain or perhaps for some other reason, but I promptly forced him down to earth on all fours.

So we rode for the space of five days. At night we slept where we could and by day we rode and suffered from the cold rains. I had gold with me and could pay for the best, but even the best was sorry worst, and ever and again I sighed for my velvets, fire, good beer and fascinating manuscripts. Even the memory of Elephantis failed to keep me warm. Yet an end finally came and we arrived at the hut of the old man and his wife. It was still raining and the sky was lowering; yet, through the gloom, I could see the dark mountains far in the distance, covered with mighty trees and holding in their mysterious fastnesses the lovely daughter and the unknown monster who had torn her from her parental home.

The news of our arrival spread through the little town and all the simple folk flocked to see the giant-killer, and whether they were disappointed by my looks, I wot not; at least they made no unfavorable comments. However, since I had come all this long five-days journey to accomplish another wonderful feat of chivalry, I was pleased to talk to these humble folks, for I wished to learn all there was to be known about the land, and the special variety of monsters it harbored, and just how this maiden had been taken, and what manner of fiend had done the deed, for I had found such preliminary investigation to be of the greatest value in winning victory over the Powers of Darkness. Also I was glad to have some of the kindly peasants carefully dry and oil my armor and rub over my muscles a special, sacred oil brought from the Holy Land, being from the body of a great saint who had been boiled alive; this oil was very comforting in both a physical and a religious sense.

All of the men told a different tale about the monster. None had actually seen it, but all agreed it was a twenty-ell serpent, had the shape of a great unicorn, a headless man with eyes in his belly, a bull with the head of a man, a real dragon who had wandered to Wales from Tartary or a three-headed giant. All stated that it was very horrible and could easily kill, simply by blowing a flame of fire on the unfortunate victim’s face. The usual weapons were powerless. Steel could not cut, lance could not pierce, mace could not crush. The more they talked, the more peculiar I felt and the more clearly I saw why the knights of Wales were too busy to take any part in the rescue of this maiden, irrespective of her beauty and the customary reward. It was really a very awkward situation.

They all seemed very happy over my arrival and said again and again that if human man could kill this monster, the giant-killer from Cornwall could. I assured them that I was confident I could find the maiden and rid their land of this foul animal, be it man, beast, or demon. At that, a very old man knelt before me and with humble thanks said that he would give me fifty gold crowns if I did so, as he was betrothed to the maiden, having purchased her from her father and that the wedding would have been consummated ere now had the fiend from the mountain not taken her.

I looked at the old man, his withered face, shrunken frame and scanty white hair. The more I saw of him the less I liked him, and I thought to myself that perhaps the maiden was better off in the mountains than in his house. In fact, I suddenly grew sick of the entire adventure and demanded that I be escorted to my room and left to sleep till the morrow. They did as I commanded, and I spent a restless night tossing on a couch of corn shucks, sorely missing my warm featherbed.

The next morning all the townspeople gathered to see me put on my armor, and after that had been done I drank a quart of beer — moodily, for it was poor stuff. Then, sad of heart, I mounted my horse and rode toward the mountain. A priest strode ahead of me, singing a prayer; the old man and woman walked on either side of my horse, while the old lover hobbled behind me, urging me to guard myself well and saying repeatedly that he surely would give me the promised fifty crowns.

The old woman kept muttering, “No other man would do it. No other man.”

“Would be such a fool,” I added in a whisper. “No other man. Many of the men I have read of, such as Launcelot, Bevin, or Ulysses would have been glad to adventure thus; but only I, who have cleared my own country of such monsters, would be fool enough to do such dirty work for the cowardly men of Wales.”

The old husband, the priest and the senile lover took up the chant, “No other man would do it. No other man!” Finally we came to the edge of the wood and within a mile of the mountain, where they paused, saying they dare not go further with me, but would return home and wait, praying for my safe return.

The trees were so close together that I could not ride my charger, so I dismounted, tied him to a tree and then looked into the woods. It was dark and feyish, yet through the trees came glittering, glistening shafts of golden sunshine, and far away, I heard a thrush sing and a squirrel chatter in the treetops. Then I knew that I was in the Enchanted Forest, for here was springtime and pleasant weather. It being warm, I took a new view of the situation and I decided that I could not fight well with all my armor on; so, back to the horse and there I made myself comfortable, and, when I next wended into the woods, I was clothed in woolens only. My great sword was over my back, my shield was on one arm, a dagger in my belt and a lovely woods-flower in my right hand.

Thus, on to the rocks, and, nearing them, I heard the sound of singing, and the song was about love and roses and ladies’ tresses. I marveled at this and knew it was weird legerdemain. Further on I wandered, and suddenly I came upon the singer, whereat I was greatly frightened. For I knew now that I was in the midst of a great mystery and a most powerful magic. This evil beast who had stolen the poor girl from her parents, by his cunning and in preparation for my arrival, changed his ugly body into that of a lovely damsel, and was waiting to deceive me and, when I was unaware, to kill me with his poison and his mighty power.

I knew that it was useless to cut such a being with a sword or pierce it with a dagger, his body being so much thin air. In such a conflict, weapons of ordinary use were powerless. So I slowly discarded my shield, sword and dagger and, holding the woods-flower in my outstretched hand, I closed for the conflict.

“Though you are a mystic magician, “I cried, “I command you to give me the poor little girl you stole from her parents on Ash Wednesday. Give her to me, and if she is safe I will not harm you; but if you persist, I will match my magic against yours and overcome you.”

“Who are you?” demanded the demon. “Why are you here?”

I could tell from the way he questioned me that he was much impressed by my threat.

“I am Cecil Hubelaire, son of James, and grandson of David, and Raymond the Golden was my distant ancester. Latterly I have become Overlord of Cornwall. You may be interested to know that I killed the dragon of Thorp’s Woods and destroyed seven slithering, shimmering snakes in Ireland which Saint Patrick failed to kill, so that I finished the task he began. Alone and unaided, I made an ending of five Moors who threatened the reputation of a fair Spanish lady, after which she rewarded me in a manner that was most pleasing to each of us. In my land of Cornwall I caught twenty-three bandits, and hanged them as a warning to all evildoers.”

I paused to watch the effect of all this. There was no doubt that the fiend was considerably disturbed, so I continued. “In this country a poor girl — who, by the way, was to marry a very rich man — was ravished from her parents. They appealed to the King of Wales and he pleaded with his knights to rescue her, but all refused, claiming they were too busy. The king sent a very urgent letter to me, and for five days I rode over the worst possible roads to perform this great adventure. It would be better if you submit quietly and allow me to restore the maiden to her parents and future husband. If you refuse, I shall needs fight and will surely overcome you, irrespective of what shape you may assume.”

At this the monster started to cry. “I will never go back and marry that miserable old man. It would be better for me to die!” It was easily apparent that this was only part of the deception the horrific monster was trying to impose upon me; so I grew stern.

“She must go back,” I cried harshly, and, twirling the woods-flower in my hand to distract his attention, I advanced on him, for it was my purpose to spring forward suddenly, take him by the throat and choke him to death before he had a chance to change his form from that of a beautiful woman to his usual dragon shape or that of a six-legged scorpion.

The monster looked at me. The eyes he had assumed were blue, the face fair and smooth as a rose petal, and his mouth was a lovely red bow. It was easily seen that the body he had taken as disguise was fair, for the silken robe clung seductively to curves worthy of Aphrodite. Suddenly he cried out loudly. “No other man,” he sobbed, “would make me go back and marry that horrible old lecher!” But by that time I leaped forward and was crushing him in my arms.

Some days later I came out of the dark forest. My poor charger, having eaten all the grass within his reach, had broken loose but, true to his master, had remained near the armor. Slowly I put on the heavy pieces and, mounted the faithful animal, prepared to return to the town. So I rode away from the mountain — with the damsel in front of me.

To my surprise I was met by a great concourse of armed men. It seems that King Cadwyn, hearing that I had gone into the mountains on a desperate adventure, had gathered his knights and come to my rescue. Had I not presented myself that day, they would have searched for my bones to give them Christian burial. My sudden appearance made such a search unnecessary; so there was nothing to do but make merry over my safe return from so great a derring-do and allow feasting to replace the proposed solemn masses for my soul.

At the banquet table I requested that the damsel sit beside me, saying that there were very impressive reasons why this should be so. Then came feasting and talking, the Welsh being very brave at both such sports. King Cadwyn told how proud they all were to have the Overlord of Cornwall take part in such a glorious and valorous undertaking; the girl’s father stammered his joy and thanksgiving for her safe return; the aged gallant handed me a silken bag holding the fifty crowns he had promised me as a reward. Then he begged the monarch that the wedding take place while all the nobility of Wales were there, and promised to give fine presents to each guest.

But I rose from my seat and said, “I cannot let this man die!”

“What do you mean?” asked the King.

“To explain,” I replied, “will be a pleasure, though I cannot do so without telling of my overcoming this great Welsh monster in his mountain cave. If, in the telling, at times I seem boastful, you will pardon my pride; for, in truth, the feat was a great deed and well done. I do not wish to relate all the details, for they, in part, are so terrible that the women, listening, would swoon from fright. I will simply explain why it is impossible for this worthy man to marry the damsel, because he is a good man and I do not want him to die. dark woods heard horrible hissing and

“When I entered the I a knew by the terrifying sound that the monster was trying to frighten me. Leaving my horse, I advanced cautiously. As the woods grew darker, I saw flashes of lightning and knew that the eyes of the dragon emitted these flames. Finally I was near enough to see the creature, and you may judge of my amazement when I tell you that it was a worm, many ells long, but instead of feet like a millipede it had arms and hands, and each hand grasped a weapon, sharp as a dagger and poisoned with deadly dragon’s doom. He had three heads, and I may remark here that a three-headed monster is not new to me, I having killed several of them in Gorkiland; but only one head of this monster had a face; the other two being smooth of features, save for mouths that dripped blood and spittal. It showed no signs of fear but rushed at me, and for over an hour I had need of all my skill in defending myself from its weapons. I used, as is my wont in such battles, my two-handed sword and finally succeeded in cutting off one of the heads. The monster howled dismally and ran into its cave.

“I rushed after it and was not surprised to find that its home was a large cavern well lighted by the baleful glare from the monster’s eyes. The headless stump oozed a white blood which shone on the floor of the cave. The fighting was now most terrible and difficult, because I was constantly stumbling over the bones of maidens he had previously ravaged and devoured. After a long and bitter struggle I snipped off another head, and now the monster retreated into a smaller cave. Chained to the wall of this cavern was the poor little girl who had been stolen from her parents and would have been destroyed, body and soul, at the next full moon, had I not come when, in desperation, your brave King sent for me.

“The dragon now assumed the shape of an old magician and, breathing harshly, asked me to leave in peace, offering to share the beauty of the maiden with me if I did as he requested. Naturally, I scorned such a dastardly suggestion and, calling on him to defend himself, rushed on him with dagger in hand. Seeing that he was doomed by the power of my magic, he metamorphosed himself into a bubble of air and vanished down the maiden’s throat.

“I have brought her back, but the monster is still within her, waiting for a chance to issue forth and destroy all you good people of Wales. If she marries this man, the monster will sally forth on the bridal night and tear the poor bridegroom to pieces. If she remains here, the whole village is in danger. The world is safe only as long as the demon realizes that I am close at hand to strangle him at his first appearance.”

The audience shivered and seemed stunned by my tale.

“What are your plans?” the king asked, pale and shaken. “And why should you undergo such a risk to save the life of one man or all the simple folk of this village?”

“I propose to take this unfortunate damsel with me to Cornwall. During the journey I shall watch her closely. If the monster comes out of her, I will at once kill him and return her to her parents and her betrothed. If the fiend still sulks in her midgut by the time I reach Cornwall, I shall give her rare medicine I know of and thus, gradually, the fiend will die. I am a lone man, without wife or children, and it is better for me to take this great risk than to have all these good people die in one night of slaughter, horrible even to imagine. I know a lot about such demons and their course of action, and thus it is better for me to keep the damsel near me till he is utterly destroyed.”

“Oh, kind sir!” cried the mother. “How can we thank you? You are too good to us. No other man would have done all these wondrous things just for strangers. I will feel so safe with my daughter in your care!”

And the aged one came to me on his knees and humbly handed me a gold chain and thanked me for saving him from a horrible tearing at the hands of this deformed beast from Hell.

It was now late in the afternoon, yet, as the day was warm, I insisted that I depart at once for Cornwall; so I mounted my charger with the damsel pillioned before me. Tied to the back of my saddle was a bundle of presents — jewels and fine silken goods-from the king and his knights. I wore all my armor save my helmet, which had tied to the saddle, and in its place I wore my helmet, I a little velvet cap.

We said kind farewells to all of these Welsh people.

King Cadwyn rode down the narrow path beside me.

“Art sure, dear sibling,” he asked, as he turned to leave me, “art sure the damsel hath a devil in her?”

“Certainly,” I replied very seriously.

“Then she be a true woman,” he answered, “for all women I have ever known are thus inhabited.”

With this he winked at me, and trotted back to where his knights awaited him.

Ruth and I fared on through the summer afternoon. More and more, as the sun lowered in the kindly sky, she leaned heavily against me; and now and then she sighed as she looked at me with those deep blue eyes and asked, “Dost see aught of the monster peering from my mouth?”

“Nay,” I replied, holding her closer so that she be not frightened.

“Yet I fear me that it cometh out. Drive it back, my heart!” and so I did with kisses.

How stubborn that devil was! How hard to drive back!

Finally she gasped. “No other man,” she whispered, “would have done it as you did.”

“No other man!” I echoed.

And once again I drove the devil back from her mouth.