The Executioner's Knife; Or, Joan of ArcSue, Eugène
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The Executioner's Knife; Or, Joan of Arc
Sue, Eugène
Biographical fiction; Christian fiction; Christian women saints -- Fiction; Joan, of Arc, Saint, 1412-1431 -- Fiction
"And where was that harp, god-mother?" asked Jeannette, more and more
interested in the legend. "What must he do to get it?"
"'My poor grandmother,'
Said Alain when he returned to the house,
'If truly you love me you'll help and advise me.
My heart is broken! My heart is broken!'
'Bad boy, had you but listened to me,
Had you not gone to that feast,
Your heart would not be broken.
But come, do not cry. The harp shall be loosened.
Here's a hammer of gold;
Now go.'
"Alain returned to the King's palace, saying:
'Good luck and joy! Here am I,
And I bring the harp of Merlin'--"
"Then he succeeded in getting the harp?" Jeannette asked in amazement.
"But where and how did he do it, god-mother?"
Sybille, with a mysterious look, placed her finger to her lips in token
of silence:
"'I bring here the harp of Merlin,' said Alain to the King;
'Sire, your daughter, Linor, must now be mine.
You promised me so.'
When the King's son heard this, he made a wry face
And spoke to his father, the King, in a low voice.
The King, having listened, then said to Alain:
'If you fetch me the ring
From the finger of Merlin's right hand,
Then you shall have my daughter, Linor.'"
"Oh, god-mother, twice to fail in his promise! Oh, that was wrong on the
part of the King! What is to become of poor Alain?"
"Alain returns all in tears,
And seeks his grandmother in great haste.
'Oh, grandmother, the King had said--
And now he gainsays himself!'
'Do not grieve so, dear child!
Take a twiglet you'll find in my chest,
On which twelve leaves you'll see--
Twelve leaves as yellow as gold,
And that I looked for se'en nights
In se'en woods, now se'en years agone.'"
"What were those gold leaves, god-mother? Did the angels or the saints
give them to the grandmother?"
Sybille shook her head negatively and proceeded:
"When at midnight the chanticleer crowed,
The black colt of Alain awaited his master
Just outside the door.
'Fear not, my dear little grandson,
Merlin will not awake;
You have my twelve leaves of gold.
Go quickly.'
The chanticleer had not yet done with his chant
When the black colt was galloping swiftly over the road.
The chanticleer had not yet done with his chant
When the ring of Merlin was taken away--"
"And this time Alain married the King's daughter, did he not,
god-mother?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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