KEMPION

KEMPION

(From the Scotch Ballads)

ANGUS MAC PHERSON had one daughter, and she was so beautiful that it made the heart ache to look at her. Her hair was of red gold; her eyes were as blue as the sky and she was as slim and fair as a reed, and because of her beauty she was always called the Fair Ellen.

Angus Mac Pherson loved Fair Ellen as he did the apple of his eye, but all the same her mother had only been dead a year when he was for marrying again and bringing a stepmother into the house.

The new wife was handsome too, with eyes as black as sloes, and hair like a cloud at night, but the moment she saw Fair Ellen she knew the girl was the more beautiful, and she hated her with a bitter black hate for her beauty’s sake.

Well, they lived along, and Fair Ellen served her stepmother well. She served her with foot and she served her with hand. Everything that she could do for her she did, but the stepmother hated her worse and worse, and a powerful wicked witch was she.

Now it chanced that Angus Mac Pherson had to go on a far journey, and he would be away a long time. He said good-by to his wife and his daughter and then he started out, and no one was left in the house but those two alone.

After he had been gone a little while the stepmother said, “Come, Fair Ellen, we are both sad and down-hearted. Let us go out and walk upon the cliffs where the wind blows and the sun shines.”

Fair Ellen was ready enough to go, so they set out together.

They walked along and they walked along until they came to Estmere Crag, and always as they walked the stepmother’s lips moved as though she were talking to herself, but no word did she utter.

“What is that you say?” asked Fair Ellen.

“’Tis a rhyme I learned when I was young,” said the stepmother. “I was but minding myself of it.”

After awhile they reached the top of the crag, and the sea was far, far below them. Then the stepmother turned to Fair Ellen.

“Blue of eyes and fair of speech,” she cried; “you have crossed my path, and none may do that and have good come of it. You have crossed my path with your beauty, but with your beauty you shall cross it no longer.”

Fair Ellen stood and looked at her, and her heart grew cold within her, and she could stir neither hand nor foot.

The stepmother raised her hand and touched her. “A loathly worm you shall be,” she cried. “You shall dwell under Estmere Crag and the salt sea shall be your home, and bonowed[1] shall ye never be, till Kempion, the king’s own son, shall come to the crag and thrice kiss thee.”

Then the witch turned and walked down the crag, and back to her own home.

But the Fair Ellen was changed in her shape so that even her own father would have feared her. Her shape grew long, her breath was fire, and she became a scaly dragon. Down over Estmere Crag she swung, and deep in a cavern she hid herself, and the smoke rose from the cavern and everyone was afraid.

Now it was not long that she had been there when word came to the king’s palace that such a beast was in the land, and that all the country was wasted because of her. But none dared to go out against her because she was so terrible.

But Kempion, the king’s own son, was as brave a prince as ever lived. Handsome he was, too, and straight and tall.

Now when he heard of the great beast his heart rose within him, and he swore that he would go out to slay it, and Segramore, his brother, said that he would go with him.

They built themselves a bonny boat, for they could best come to the beast’s lair by sea, and they two set out together; they two and no other, for everyone else was afraid to go with them.

They sailed out and on and around, and so they came within sight of Estmere Crag, and there lay the great worm stretched in and out among the rocks. It was a gruesome sight, and with every breath it breathed, the crag was lit up as if by fire.

Kempion and his brother had scarce come within a mile of the land when the beast saw them, and raised itself. It opened its mouth and fire and flame poured forth. It swung its head to and fro and the sea was lashed into foam.

“Keep further out,” cried Kempion to his brother. “Keep further out, for this beast has sure gone mad at the sight of us; a little more and it will set fire to all the land.”

Then Segramore kept the boat off, and Kempion bent his arbalest bow and aimed an arrow at the head of the beast. He bent his bow, but the arrow stayed, for when he saw the eyes of the beast they were the eyes of a sorrowing maid, and they seemed to pierce to his very soul.

Nevertheless he kept his bow still bent and he called to it across the water, “Now, by my soul, unless you swear to me that you will quit my land, with this same shaft will I shoot you dead.”

Then the worm made answer,

“Out of my rocks I will not rise

Nor leave the land for fear of thee

Till over Estmere Crag ye come

And on my mouth three times kiss me.”

Then Kempion was like one distraught. He threw down his bow and bade his brother row back to the land. “I will go over the crag to you, beast,” he cried, “though I go to my death at the same time.”

Segramore begged and pleaded with him, but he would not listen. As soon as they came to the shore he leaped from the boat and all unarmed set out for Estmere Crag.

Up and up he climbed, and it was a dizzy height. Far, far below was the blue sea, and half way up from it the cavern where the beast made its lair. Kempion could see it there now, twisted among the rocks.

Out swung the great beast and around it came, the fiercest beast that ever was seen. The hair rose on Kempion’s head and he shut his eyes, for it was near him now. It came close and the fire was all about him, but it did not burn him. Then he kissed it.

He kissed it and the mouth was cold.

Out it swung and again it came.

“Out of my lair I will not rise,

I will not leave for fear of thee,

Oh, Kempion, you dear king’s son,

Till on the mouth you thrice kiss me.”

Then Kempion kissed the beast again and its lips were warm. The third time he kissed it, and its mouth was the mouth of a woman.

Then Kempion looked, and before him stood the most beautiful maid he had ever seen. Slim as a reed she was, and very fair, for her eyes were as blue as the sky, and her hair as bright as gold, and it fell all about her, and down to her knees like a mantle.

Then Kempion took his cloak and wrapped it about her. “You are my own true love,” he said, “and other maid I will marry none, for never have I seen such beauty and gentleness before.”

So he carried her up from Estmere Crag, and home to the palace of the king.

There, all was sorrow and mourning, for they thought that Kempion was surely dead. But when they saw him come into the hall, and saw the beautiful bride he had brought with him, all their sorrow was turned into rejoicing.

When they had heard how the young prince had broken the enchantment that had held Fair Ellen the old king turned to her. “Tell me, oh, my daughter,” he said, “was it mermaid in the sea, or was it werewolf in the wood, or some wicked man or wicked woman that wrought this cruel spell on thee?”

“It was not werewolf in the wood, it was not mermaid in the sea, but it was my wicked stepmother that wrought this cruel spell on me.”

Then said the king, “Punished shall she surely be; she shall be taken to the top of Estmere Crag, and thrown over into the sea, for such wickedness shall pollute my land no longer. But you, Fair Ellen, shall be the bride of my own dear son Kempion, and the half of all I have shall be yours and his forever.”

FOOTNOTE:

[1] Bonowed—ransomed or rescued.