Tales From Cornwall: A History Of The Hubelaires

9. Feminine Magic

This is the last of the five chapters from the Tales From Cornwall in which Cecil, self-styled Overlord, is the principal character. You will see him once more in the next chapter, but near the end of his days, where the tales have taken another tum. The present episode has not been published before.

For two months after my marriage to the beautiful Leonora we were very happy. Naturally much of the time was spent in entertaining the nobility of Cornwall, all of whom, especially their womenfolk, were more than curious to see their new queen in daylight. Her mysterious appearance had taken place in the soft moonlight and of course there were a hundred versions of exactly what had happened. But all my subjects agreed that her remarkable arrival from the Celestial Paradise which she hight her home was of the same magical nature which had savored all the adventures of their Overlord since first he arrived in Cornwall. As the land was at peace and prosperity reigned, they were content to leave matters as they were. My bride was very charming. Also she had a regal bearing and a haughty toss of the head which much astonished me, as I well knew her ancestry and former environment. As Ruth, daughter of humble parents, she had been rescued from the dragon and perhaps a worse fate at the hands of her aged lover; as Percy, the page, she had served me humbly and well, satisfied with an occasional word of kindness and a smile. Now this same girl did queen it over my castle and, in fact, over all Cornwall, as though she were to the manor born.

Having taken but scant part in her becoming my wife (the fact being that I had not even been consulted and had known nothing of what was to happen till she came from the Bride Well), I felt that with her it was a case of sink or swim and that she could make her way with good folk of Cornwall as best she might with meager help from me. To my surprise she did this very thing in an excellent manner. I was completely ignored and often left alone in the library while Queen Leonora entertained our guests, listening avidly to their flatteries. All day the castle buzzed with, “Oh, Queen Leonora, what dainty hands you have, enscorrelled with the most beautiful rings!” and “What a lovely complexion!” and, “How fortunate to possess that string of exquisite pearls!” or, “How remarkable that ivory pendant of Cupid and how bravely he carries his bow and arrow!”

For a while I contented myself bringing my history to date; but finally I could no longer endure the strain, so summoned the lady to the library. She gave me a deep curtsy and then lost herself in one of the leather chars, covered, as it happened, with the skin of a black bear, against which ebony her white gown and whiter skin shone like the sun against a darkening sky.

“I want to talk with you, Madam,” I began with scant ceremony. “In some way you became my wife and therefore Queen of Cornwall. As such you have, in a small passage of time, gained a most pleasing popularity. But it grieves and perplexes me to see that you and many of my formerly loyal subjects have almost forgotten my existence. Besides, how came you by that string of wonderful pearls, each worth a king’s ransom and larger by far than the pair Cleopatra dissolved for the pleasuring of her Roman visitors? Of course I know that you say they were my betrothal present, but well enough we know that I never gave them to you.”

“The priest who married us gave them to me ere he left,” she answered. “I thought you knew him. He told me he was an old friend of yours and had spent a pleasant evening with you in legerdemain. All the ladies admire them greatly. I do not deem it kind of you to scold me, because one of the reasons I married you was to make your position stronger, for all the Cornwall nobles said you must have a wife.”

“You did not understand them correctly. A wife was but an incident.”

“I am sure I do not comprehend your meaning.”

“Naturally not. How could you? I admit that you have a certain beauty and, now that you are married, fill out your gown with admirable curves, but what can you know about affairs of state?”

“I know more that you can imagine. Do you realize that the south of Cornwall is muttering? I heard of it, and, at this time, three of the leaders are in the castle. Give them presents, increase their rank and keep them loyal, or cut off their heads and thus bring an end to their discontent. They await your pleasure, but ’twas your queen who beguiled them here to feel the weight of your hand, either in love or in passion.”

This annoyed me, and I could not help but show it.

“You worry me, Leonora!” I cried, “and I wish you would attend to your own affairs and leave the rule of the land to me. You know nothing of politics, and your place is in the women’s gallery directing your maidens to spin, weave and make tapestries. Some weeks ago I asked you to have them busy themselves with an embroidery of the Overlord Cecil slaying the three-headed dragon of Wales. I wish it to replace that tapestry of Knight Hercules and his fifty-one damsels. I told the seneschal to remove it, but he had the impudence to tell me that you asked that it remain in your bedchamber. Besides, and this you should consider carefully, your becoming queen was just an accident and if you were not queen some other woman would be; and it was not a queen my nobles wanted me to have, but a son. So far, you have failed to realize this. I will get me a child, and, it may be, once I have perfected the formula, I will get more. Now that I think of it, there is no time to spare. Have my harness ready and fill my leather purse with gold pieces, for tomorrow I am on my way to Armorica and from there to Cockaigne and all the weird and unattainable places of the earth, including the forbidding desert of Gobi. I will travel far and never rest till I work my magic and have me a son. While I am gone, behave yourself; see that the grapes are gathered in the fall and wine made. Have the larger hogs killed-”

I minded to say more but was given pause by Leonora, who faced me white-heated and unquestionably angry. Her words came so fast that I could gather only a general idea of what she was trying to say. The gist of it was that she did not care how soon I left and the longer I stayed away the better pleased she would be, that she would be delighted if I never came back, for she could rule Cornwall without me and if she had known the kind of a husband I would prove to be she would have rotted in the Bride Well. Then came laughter and tears and, before I was aware, a smart slap on my face, a swishing of silk and I was alone in the library.

Of course, after that, I was bound to go. The sooner I left on my magical search for a son and heir, the sooner I would return and have the boy recognized as the future Overlord of Cornwall. I was confident that the boy and I would have a grand time in the castle and it would be no waiting at all till I would be teaching him to read and to write his letters on parchment.

The next day, all being prepared for my departure, I sent for the seneschal and the captain of my men-at-arms. During my absence they were to hold the border for me and see that the castle and its inmates were protected against any evil ones who came against it. If I was asked for, the seneschal should simply say that I had gone on a very private business to Cockaigne and mayhaps even to Gobi, finally returning to reward the good and punish the evil-doers.

“And while I am gone, Aethelstan,” I said, “you are to be in full command. In other words you will serve as the vicar of the Overlord. You will even see to it that the Queen only assumes the responsibility of a mere woman. She must have no authority.”

“I’ll do my best,” the old man replied, but it was evident that he was not certain of his ability to carry out my orders.

Very late that afternoon I rode down the road, and the manner of my leaving the castle was in splendid contrast to my incoming when my horse had died and I had been fortunate enough to win the friendship of the mystical man who had won the Battle of the Toads. Though I was fully armed, I now was able to place more confidence in my reputation, which was spread throughout the land, according to my correspondents, as far as the kingdom ruled over by Prester John. Brave man indeed it would be who willingly and knowingly assailed the Overlord who had, single-handed, freed Cornwall from every cursed being which had beforetime so grievously infested her borders.

So I wended my way and that night slept on a thick bed of moss under the shelter of a giant oak. I slept easily and in comfort, free for the first time in many days of the ceaseless chitter-chatter nonsense which so characterized my wife’s conversation. I thought it a brave and worthwhile adventure, to go forth into the wide world and, by means of magic, form a son from the shapeless things of the darksome voids. I would be beset on every hand by salamanders, succubi, cockatrices and giant centipedes, and yet, by my power, their strength would be of no avail and finally I would win me back to Cornwall with a lovely boy on the pommel of my saddle. In my drowsiness I smiled, fancying the chit’s amazement when I sent her back to Wales.

Early the next day I came to the Irish Sea. Here was a wonder that I could never fathom, how the water came in endless waves and yet there was always water as before and no ceasing of the waves. Seated on stallion I looked over the mighty sea and mused.

“Only this water keeps me from being the greatest monarch of all time; for, if there were no water, Cornwall would include Ireland and go westward from that island till it took India into its domain and even come to the magical land of Gobi. Surely such a kingdom would give me ample opportunity to prove my greatness.”

“Indeed it would,” said a soft voice behind me. Turning quickly I saw the priest who had married us, and who had played such an important role when I became Overlord.

“Well, well!” I exclaimed.

“And a third well, Cousin Cecil, and what brings you, a newly married man, to be looking so longingly over the Irish Sea, when you should be at home, in soft and pleasurable dalliance with your lovely bride?”

“We had an argument,” I replied. “She failed utterly to comprehend my ambitions in life, and added word on word till she came all in a frenzy. So I left her, for wife or no wife, I know my duty to Cornwall and none may say that Cecil, the Overlord, failed to measure up to any of his responsibilities.”

“And what is this great duty?”

“I must have a child. The barons of my country wish the formation of a dynasty. They desire an heir to sit in my stead when I am no longer here but gone West. Now I know a little of magic and know where I can learn more, so I am faring to Cockaigne and may even go as far as Gobi so I can learn the magic of making a son, and then I will return to my native land so that all my subjects may bow to the Prince of Cornwall.”

“Fine! Wonderful! A most laudable ambition. Allow me to help you. Ride the rest of today along the coast eastward. Towards evening, just as the mewing sea gulls proudly flaunt their preened feathers in the golden glitter of the setting sun, you will come to a very old castle inhabited by an equally aged man. Tell him who you are and that I sent you and he will be pleased to entertain you. In his most remarkable library you will find every book that has ever been written concerning the magic of child-making. If you wish to have a son you will find in these books a dozen, dozen methods.”

“Then I will not have to go to Gobi?” I questioned happily.

“You did not even have to come here,” he answered with a gay laugh, and, running down to the surf, dove mightily into the waves and swam toward Ireland. I looked at his footprints in the sand and saw they were like those of a goat. Here was a magical sign that this man, who certainly had shown his friendship for me on several occasions, was more than human.

That evening, soon before twilight, I arrived at the old castle and was welcomed into the library of the aged owner. Everything had turned out as foretold by the priest. The old man was friendly, though he had a peculiar smile when I informed him concerning the reason for my visit.

“Few come here on such a quest,” he commented, “though I admit that my collection of manuscript books is most unusual. You could spend the rest of your life here reading the marvelous lore concerning the thousands of methods of creating children.”

“I am astonished that there are so many!”

“It is easy to understand. For centuries learned men have sought to understand the mysterious forces of the spirit-world; none of them thought their lifework complete until they devised a new, startling and perfect method of creating babies in their caves, underground castle rooms where, far away from the disquiet of society, they lived and died.

“I suppose you have read most of them?” I questioned as I looked around the room and saw the hundreds of books.

“Very few of them. In my youth it was not necessary and in old age my eyesight failed.”

Satisfied that my stallion was well provided for, I ate a hearty supper and then slept well. The next morning I started to read concerning various methods whereby a man could make him a son. The idea of creating an homunculus pleased me, for it had seemed to me that a child, created by man only, without the contaminating influence of the female sex, must, of necessity, excel in wisdom. No doubt the Good Lord, in his all wisdom, must have had some reason for creating Mother Eve, the first woman, but, in my humble opinion, the world would have been a finer place wherein to live and man much happier had he omitted this final work. As I read on concerning the homunculi I found they were of small size but very intelligent, and I decided not to make one. He might know more than I and that would never do. Also I was certain that a little man, irrespective of his wisdom, would never be able to do battle as the Overlord of Cornwall if the Welsh invaded my lands.

After some weeks of continued reading it seemed best to make use of interlocking triangles, traced with the tusk of an elephant, and the earth inside the triangles well moistened with the blood of bats. Then the mystic phrase must need be whispered:

"Luro Vopo Vir Voarchadumia. ”

Following the use of this horrific slogan it would be necessary to wait till the various processes of fixation, deflagration, putrifaction and rubifaction began, matured and arrived at a satisfactory ending. Then, when the star Cantharis came to the meridian, the child would be found in the center of the two triangles, whose points interlocked.

What could be simpler?

All I needed was to obtain the tusk of an elephant and the blood of bats. I asked the ancient if he could help me. He told me that as far as he knew, there had been no elephants in the land for many centuries. He advised me to ride down to the white cliffs of Dover, explaining that there were large horses carved in the stone there and I might find an elephant skeleton. I took his advice but after a two week search found nothing but the bones of a very large bull. So I moodily rode back to the castle by the sea, where the old man met me joyfully, saying that while digging for fishworms in his garden he had found the remains of a very large elephant, had cut a tusk off the skull and had cleaned and sharpened the point. He had also caught some bats and bled them into a red crystal vase.

I thanked him but suggested that the magic might fail unless a young man found the tusk and personally bled the bats. “Methinks,” I said, “that since they are used to procreate a child, a young man should secure them, one in the prime of manhood, like myself.”

“Since you are creating this child without the aid of a woman, I do not think that age has aught to do with it. All of the manuscripts in my library which tell of such unisexual creations were written by ancient men in their dotage.” I thought this was a curious answer but after due consideration, decided he was right. In addition I also was feeling rather old by this time, not a doddering senile, but certainly far older than when I left my castle some weeks before.

Thereon I searched the castle till I found a small, dry dungeon, poorly lighted by a slotted window and surfaced with a dirt floor. This I smoothed off and, with the point of the tusk, drew the double triangle. Then I scattered the bat’s blood within the interlockings and whispered the horrible but evidently necessary words. After that there was nothing to do but wait for Cantharis to be in the proper position in the sky, which the old man had said would be in the space of ten months of twenty-eight days each. What a long time to wait! Of course the books in the library helped me pass the time and, on pleasant days, I went riding to exercise the stallion. I thoroughly enjoyed the library and read parts of every manuscript in it, though more and more I marveled at so many men in the world having children without possessing such methods of creation and not even knowing how to read. One day I praised the old man for his wisdom and his ability to select such wisdom, but he claimed no credit, simply replying that the manuscripts had been collected by a former owner of the castle who had club feet.

But l was worried. I had thrown the dice and risked all on a single toss. As the days passed I lost confidence and cursed myself for not having used a dozen magical methods of procreation at one and the same time. Then surely one would have come to a satisfactory ending. On the other hand, what would I have done if they had all worked favorably and I had a dozen sons, all created at the same time? Which one would have been the future Overlord of Cornwall? As it was now, it was win or lose, defeat or success. No wonder I had sorry dreams in which Leonora mocked me. tempting me with pursed mouth filled with kisses.

Finally the ten months of twenty-eight days each came to an end. All I would have to do was to open the door and pick the little boy from out the interlocked triangles. I tried to remember that I was a brave follower of all great magicians, but my hand shook slightly as I opened the dungeon door and illumined the dark room with a lighted pine torch. No child on the floor! Only a hissing snake that flicked its forked tongue toward me and sought safety in a rock crack.

Failure! Utter and complete failure! Months on anticipation. tiresome waiting and hard study, with naught but a snake to pay me for my pains! Heartsick. I toiled up the stone steps and staggered to my favorite chair in the library. Waiting for me was the priest, his feet handsomely shod in green leather pantofles.

“Hail, pater familias!” he cried, and his voice boomed musically through the great room.

“You speak wrongly,” I replied in sorrow. “All these months I have toiled with the magic that seemed most likely to succeed: instead of a sturdy man-child I made only a little, slithering snake that any farmer boy could go woodward and soon gather at the end of forked stick. Bah! Between you and your books. a year of my young life has been taken from me and I am still childless.”

“My dear Cecil,” the priest said gravely. as he laid a kind hand on my knee. “I would not harm you in any way. You are thick-headed. and the only way you can learn is by your own experience. Months ago you deliberately left your castle and so sweet bride, being bound and determined to create a child by legerdemain. Had I not advised otherwise, you might have gone to Gobi. Perhaps you were wise in not biding with your wife. for you had to stay somewhere. Women are always hard to live with. but at times they are more difficult to please than usual. You have had your little fling and tried your hand at a most terrible magic. Now that you know your limitations you had better go home and attend to your duties in Cornwall. For I have news of great import for you. Cornwall. deeming you dead. hath selected a new Overlord.”

“Surely that cannot be!" I cried. leaping from my chair.

“ ‘Cannot’ is a large word to use. Were l you. I would hasten back and see the truth for myself. You were witless to remain away so long.”

“‘Witless I may be!” I howled in rage. “But I can still use my two-handed sword, my battle mace and my ten-foot lance. My stallion neigheth for the fire and sweat of battle. I will go and fight this impostor in single combat. What part had the Queen in this? Was she loyal to me?”

“I understand she furnished your successor.”

“I expected nothing else. Welsh women have that reputation. At least she might have waited longer for my return. Did you give her those pearls she flaunted in my face?”

My angry words must have annoyed him. At least he faded away like so much mist before the sun. I started as I noted the manner of his leaving. It was all too much for me. Tossing several tumblers of ale down my parched throat I threw me on a couch and, shivering, forced myself to sleep.

Three days later I was near enough to my cattle to be cautious. I identified myself to a friendly peasant whom I had befriended in the past. Leaving my horse and armor with him I borrowed some of his old clothes and told him I would send for the stallion and war gear in a few days. It was fortunate I was in disguise, or I would have been easily recognized by the nobility who seemed to be gathering from all parts of Cornwall. On foot as I was, I had to keep on watch for these upstarts on horse and in chariot who were giving scant attention to the common folk. I recognized Queen Broda in her golden chariot, her Irish stallions driven by her husband while she nursed a golden-haired boy. Courtiers trumpeted the coming of the King of Wales bringing presents to the new Overlord. Oh, I could have sliced him with pleasure, and the ink hardly dry on the treaty he had made with me! But I followed the crowd. They acted as though they had come a-Maying, with songs and flowers and chit-chatting talk. It was “Oh, the lovely Queen!” and “Oh, how fortunate we are to have a new Overlord!”

At last we all came to the castle. I watched for a chance and wended me to the library, the windows of which provided a fine view of the courtyard thronged with grand folk from all over our litte world. To them came my wife, the deceitful and false Leonora, the woman that I, in love, had once call by the sweet name of Ruth. The crowd huzzahed her, and I could see that she still held their fancy with her baneful beauty. She seemed sad but yet very determined.

“Men of Cornwall!” she cried regally, and I had to acknowledge to myself that she looked every inch a queen. “Men of Cornwall and friends from Ireland and Wales, greetings! Bravely and well have you been loyal to me during the sad months while my Lord Cecil has been absent from Cornwall. He adventured to Gobi, at the request of the unfortunates of that country, in quest of the most horrible Centripedius, a creature so large that our former dragons of Cornwall were but little garden lizards in comparison. Patiently you have waited with me for his return. Now the time has come when we cannot but feel that my Lord hath died, a stranger in a strange land, overcome by a magic he could not conquer. And so I give you my son, baptized Eric the Golden, but now called Cecil Secundus. He. lawful descendant of my dear, dead husband, has every right to become your new Overlord.”

At that she took a sturdy youngster from a nurse and held him high above her head. Then cried the multitude their approval. and all seemed happy and gay. Barons came and placed a crown on Leonora’s head and made her regent till the boy came of age.

“This will take some explaining,” I mused to myself. “Somehow or other I seem to be out of the picture.”

Leonora found me in my favorite chair, the one covered with bearskin. “Why, Cecil!” she cried, as she threw herself into my arms. “Where have you been all the time? Why did you stay so long?”

I kissed her many times. Somehow I felt that she expected me to, and I did not want to disappoint her.

“I have been to places you wot not of,” I replied gravely, “and you need not think I have been idle. Today I noticed that you held in your arms a sturdy boy. Does that look as though I was idling while a away from you? Some day, when the mood strikes me, I will tell you how I worked a magical sending in Gobi, the very telling of which will make the hairs on your head stand out like quills upon the bristling porcupine. Though the danger was great I gladly risked it, for I promised Cornwall a Prince; and Cecil, Overlord of Cornwall, has never failed to keep a promise. Think you that you, a weak, ignorant woman, could have done all this without the aid of my magical workings in Gobi? I had to stay away till I knew success had crowned my efforts, but I would have arrived sooner had I not paused in Bohemia to rescue a beautiful lady from a terrible death. So do not puff up with too great pride. It was my skill as a magician in the Gobi Desert that gave you the opportunity to present that boy to all of our friends. It was masculine magic, and fearful and wonderful were the things I did and the words I said while far away from you. Now tell me, did you make wine last year?”

“I did, my Lord,” she replied meekly. There was no doubt that she was deeply impressed by my narrative.

“Then bring me a brimming horn of it. I want to drink to the long health and happiness of my son, Eric the Golden. Time enough to call him Cecil Secundus when I am dead and he rules in my place.”

“I will gladly bring you a brimming horn of wine, Cecil darling, but do not forget, in your more sober moments, — that there is such a thing as feminine magic. ” With that she ran out of the room, her silvery laughter following her.

Now what did she mean by that?