In one hand Cambina carried a magic wand with two serpents twisted round it. In the other she held a golden cup filled with a magic drink, that made those who drank of it forget all anger and bitterness, and filled their hearts with happiness and friendship and peace.

When Cambina came to the wooden barrier that shut off the watchers from the field where the knights had fought, she softly struck the rail with her wand.

It flew open, and the lions dashed in with Cambina's glittering chariot.

She got out of her chariot and ran up to the two knights, and begged them to fight no more. But they would not listen, and began to fight again.

Then she knelt on the bloodstained ground, and besought them with tears to lay down their swords. When they still went fiercely on, she smote them lightly with her magic wand.

Their swords fell to the ground, and while they stared at each other in wonder, Cambina handed them her golden cup. They were so hot and thirsty that they gladly drank. And, as they drank, all anger went out of their hearts, and love for each other took its place. They kissed, and shook hands, and vowed that they would be friends for evermore.

When the people saw this, they shouted and cheered for gladness till all the air rang.

And Canacee ran down from her platform and kissed Cambina, who had stopped the fearful fight and made Canacee's brother and her lover friends.

Then the trumpets sounded, and Cambina took Canacee into her chariot beside her, and the lions galloped off to Canacee's palace. And all the people thought how beautiful were these two lovely ladies, whose faces were fresh as morning roses and radiant with happiness.

Cambell and Canacee gave a great feast that lasted for days and days.

And Triamond married Canacee, and Cambell married Cambina, and they all lived happily and peacefully ever afterwards.

VII

MARINELL, THE SEA-NYMPH'S SON

Sometimes when the sun is rising on the sea and making the waves all pink and gold, the sailors whose boats are sailing out of the grey night fancy that they see fair ladies floating on the white crests of the waves, or drying their long yellow hair in the warm sunshine.

Sometimes poets who wander on the beach at night, or sit on the high cliffs where the sea-pinks grow, see those beautiful ladies playing in the silver moonlight.

And musicians hear them singing, singing, singing, till their songs silence the sea-birds harsh cry, and their voices blend with the swish and the rush of the sea and the moan of the waves on the sh.o.r.e.

The sailors tell stories of them, and the musicians put their songs into their hearts. But the poets write poems about them, and say:--

'There are no ladies so fair to see as the nymphs whose father is a king.

Nereus is their father, and they are the Nereids.

Their home is under the sea; as blue as the sea are their eyes.

Their long, long hair is yellow like sand.

Their silver voices are like lutes, and they steal men's hearts away.'

Long, long ago, one of these nymphs became the wife of a brave knight, who found her sleeping amongst the rocks and loved her for her beauty. Cymoent was her name, and the other nymphs called her Cymoent the Black Browed, because dark lashes and eyebrows shaded her sea-blue eyes.

The knight and the nymph had a son as strong and as brave as his father, and as beautiful as his mother, and Cymoent called him Marinell.

'My son must be richer than any of the knights who live on the land,' said Cymoent to the king her father. 'Give him riches.'

So the sea-king told the waves to cast on the sh.o.r.e riches that they had stolen from all the ships that had ever been wrecked. And the waves strewed the strand with gold and amber and ivory and pearls, and every sort of jewel and precious stone.

The sh.o.r.e sparkled and shone with Marinell's riches, and no one dared touch them, for Marinell had beaten a hundred knights in battle, and fought every man who dared venture to ride along these sands.

Cymoent feared that as Marinell had won so many fights, he might grow reckless and get killed. Now Neptune, who was king of all the seas, had a shepherd who could tell what was going to happen in the future.

'Tell me,' Cymoent said to him, 'how long my Marinell will live, and from what dangers he must take most care to keep away.'

'Do not let him go near any women,' said the Shepherd of the Seas. 'I can see that a woman will either hurt him very much, or kill him altogether.'

So Cymoent warned her son never to go near any woman. And many ladies were sad because handsome Marinell would not speak to them, and the lovely lady Florimell was the saddest of all.

One day as Marinell proudly rode along the glittering sand, he saw a knight in armour that shone as brightly as the gold that the little waves had kissed.

'I am Lord of the Golden Strand!' said Marinell angrily, 'how dare the knight ride on the sh.o.r.e that is all my own!'

He rode furiously up, and told the knight to fly.

But the knight was Britomart, the fair lady with a man's armour and a man's heart. She scorned his proud words, and smote him with her magic spear.

And Britomart rode away, leaving Marinell lying as if he were dead.

His red blood stained his armour, and reddened the little waves that crept up to see what was wrong. The water washed over his feet.

'He is asleep,' said the little waves. 'We will wake him.'

But Marinell lay cold and still, and the blood dripped and dripped on to the golden sand.

Then the waves grew frightened, and the sea-birds screamed, '_Marinell is dead, is dead_ ... _dead_ ... _dead_....'

So the news came to his mother Cymoent. Cymoent and her sisters were playing by a pond near the sea, round which grew nodding yellow daffodils.

They were picking the daffodils and making them into garlands for their fair heads, when they heard the message of the birds, '_Marinell is dead, dead, dead_.'

Cymoent tore the daffodils from her hair, and fell on the ground in a faint. All her sister nymphs wailed and wept and threw their gay flowers away, and Cymoent lay with white face, and her head on the poor, torn daffodils.

[Ill.u.s.tration: But the knight was Britomart, the fair lady with a man's armour and a man's heart (page 92)]

At last she came out of her faint, and asked for her chariot, and all her sisters sent for their chariots too.

A team of dolphins drew the chariot of Cymoent, and they were trained so well that they cut through the water as swiftly as swallows, and did not even leave a track of white foam behind. Other fishes drew the chariots of the other nymphs, and Neptune, King of all the Seas, was so sorry for the sorrow of Cymoent and the other Nereids, that he told his waves to be gentle, and let them pa.s.s peacefully to where Marinell lay on the golden strand.

When they got near where he lay, they got out of their chariots, for they feared that the dolphins and other fishes might get bruised and hurt by the rocks and pebbles on the sh.o.r.e. And with their strong white arms they swiftly swam to where Marinell lay, still and silent in his blood.

When Cymoent saw her son's white face, she fainted again, and when she had recovered from her faint, she cried and moaned so bitterly, that even the hard rocks nearly wept for sorrow.

She and her sisters carefully looked at Marinell's wound, and one of them, who knew much about healing, felt his pulse, and found that a little life was still left in him. With their soft, silver-fringed mantles they wiped the blood from the wound, and poured in soothing balm and nectar, and bound it up. Then they strewed Cymoent's chariot with flowers, and lifted Marinell gently up, and laid him in it. And the dolphins, knowing to go quietly and swiftly, swam off with Cymoent and Marinell to Cymoent's bower under the sea.

Deep in the bottom of the sea was the bower. It was built of hollow waves, heaped high, like stormy clouds. In it they laid Marinell, and hastily sent for the doctor of all the folk under the sea, to come and try to cure the dreadful wound. So clever and so wise was this doctor, that soon the nymphs could laugh and sport again because Marinell was well.

But Cymoent was afraid that some other harm might come to him if he went on to the land. So she made him stay beside her, under the sea, until Marinell grew tired of doing nothing. He longed to gallop away on his horse, his sword clanking by his side, and see the green woods and grey towers of the land, instead of idling away the hours in a bower under the sea, where there was nothing for him to do, but to watch the fishes of silver and blue and red, as they chased each other through the forests of seaweed.