The Brownies and Prince Florimel

All that is here set down happened in a wonderful country where wonderful things are always happening.

In a certain kingdom there was a young prince named Florimel.

His father, the king, had lately passed away, but, though Florimel was his only son, and of age, he had not succeeded to the throne that by right of birth was his.

The reason was that his father had a brother, a very cruel, crafty duke, high in the councils of the state, who had designs upon the throne himself. In a covetous frame of mind he had once taken a photograph of the crown and ermine robe, and the intelligent palace parrot had made a remark thereat:

"'Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,'" croaked the bird.

It was a wise quotation, and yet it was not wise to make it, for right after that something happened to the unlucky parrot.

The duke with his evil influence swayed the opinions of the royal cabinet which made the laws. In his wicked old heart he wished Florimel out of the way.

If Florimel had been like other princes one reads about his people no doubt would have insisted upon his occupying the throne. But the throne was of ordinary size, so that he never could have occupied it. Like other princes he was all that was fair and handsome, but he was very small indeed. He was no larger than the average-sized boy of twelve, and the people who should have proved his loyal subjects were well-grown men and women. In their talks among themselves they showed a shame that anyone so small should rule them.

"Why, he's no bigger than a Brownie!" was a remark they very often made. "It would look foolish to have such a mite for a king." For they were well informed about the Brownies, and knew how they perched on fences, or hid adroitly whenever danger threatened.

But they were guided by appearances, as too often people wrongly are, and they failed to realize that sometimes the best goods are done up in the smallest packages, and that even a mite may be mighty.

The fact that Florimel was so small had been a great grief to his late parents who had never been able to understand it. He had been a fine, healthy baby who had won the hearty approval of his doctors and nurses.

His mother always had an uneasy fear that the godmother who assisted at his christening might have been concerned in his diminutive size, but the king invariably poo-poohed at her suspicions. This godmother was an ex-fairy, but advancing age had interfered with her work of magic. Her joints had become stiff and cramped, and she had contracted rheumatism from sleeping in damp, dewy flowers. She did not get around in the lively fashion she used to.

"Nonsense!" said the king. "Would she have bestowed on him the gift of second sight and at the same time taken away his size? Depend upon it, my dear, her intentions were perfectly straightforward and honorable."

"But it may have been this second sight has interfered with his growth," said the queen. "His vision is simply wonderful."

This was indeed so. Prince Florimel could see things no one else could. Furthermore he could see them at night. Some wise old soothsayer declared that he was gifted with supernatural powers.

One other gift had his ex-fairy godmother presented to him, a bow and quiver of arrows which she averred were priceless.

"I charge you," she said most impressively to the king, "never to let your dear son have the bow and arrows unless there comes to him some moment of great danger. Then let him place one of these arrows to the bow, and shoot it where he will. The result will be miraculous."

After she had gone back to the old-ex-fairy-ladies' home the king was strongly tempted to shoot one of the arrows from the bow just to see what would happen. With great difficulty he repressed his curiosity, and placed the bow and arrows in the family safe whose combinations was known only to himself.

So time passed happily, and one year added its joys to those of others, until there came the sad day when Florimel lost his dear mother. There was much sorrow throughout the entire kingdom, for the queen was a gentle, gracious one whose kind words and good deeds had endeared her to the hearts of all. So great was her loss to the king that he did not survive her long. Ere he joined her he called his brother, the duke, to his bed, and said to him:

"You are my only kin outside of Florimel, so to your keeping I entrust him. He is such a little chap you must be very careful of him. After I am gone he will be king, and I am sure he will rule well and wisely. He is a true king at heart if not of stature. Promise me to be his councilor and guide, and to incline him ever to the side of mercy, charity, and goodness."

The false duke promised with great earnestness, but all the while he was thinking of many wicked things.

With Florimel removed he would ascend to the throne himself. Yet so well did he hide his guilty feelings that his brother had no suspicion of any perfidy or wrong-doing, and passed away in the peace befitting the righteous king he was.

After the king's death the duke through one pretext or another delayed the coronation of the new. He incited his nephew to feats and deeds of great danger and daring with the evil hope that some terrible accident would befall him. But in all the risks and hazards that he took, and none was too great, it almost seemed that Prince Florimel bore a charmed life.

Like other young people he had his dreams, and saw much that was unreal, but with all these there had come lasting impressions.

When the duke failed to accomplish his evil designs, he determined upon even more desperate methods in his game.

The people were beginning to chafe at the delay in the coronation, and were clamoring for a new ruler. So the cabinet met to decide this most important matter, and the duke presided over the council.

"This is a most embarrassing situation," he said. "Ordinarily we would place the only son of our late king on the throne without question and amid great rejoicing. But we are confronted by a most perplexing question. Prince Florimel is what might be termed a freak. The point is, could he represent his kingdom with the proper dignity?"

"Prince Florimel may be a freak as you say," remarked a member of the cabinet, "but at the same time I have never seen a handsomer, manlier young fellow. His symmetry is perfect, and he is all that is chivalrous and brave. He is the stuff true kings are made of. The only thing against him is his size."

"That I fear is an objection which cannot be overcome," said the wily duke. "Can we, a race of big men and women, be governed by a pygmy king-a hop-o'-my-thumb? We would be the laughing stock of other kingdoms. Think, when the rulers of all these met, and ours came among them, of the mortification we would feel that we did not have a full-grown man to represent us. His insignificance would make this country insignificant to others. Those who did not know us, and judged us by him, would look upon us as a country of dwarfs."

"But Florimel is the late king's son, and heir to the throne," said another member of the cabinet. "Who else could reign in his stead?"

"I am the next of kin," said the duke.

"Yes, if it were not for Florimel you would be the logical king."

"Let us postpone our deliberations until tomorrow, by which time I think I can find a way out of the difficulty," said the duke, with deadly meaning.

The members of the cabinet looked at each other, and the meeting silently adjourned. It had been conducted with the utmost secrecy, and no one else was present but an old factotum named Gando who was there to lock the doors. And Gando, who was passionately attached to Florimel, heard the duke's word, and was very uneasy in his mind.

"So that is why," the old man said to himself, "the duke was sharpening his knife on the grind-stone!"

When the duke had retired to his apartment Gando tiptoed noiselessly after him, and placed his feeble, dim eye close to the key-hole of the door.

What he saw froze the blood in his veins, and caused the few white hairs on his head to stand stiffly up with his great fright.

The duke was seated at his window, and the moonlight played and glittered on a long, slender knife that he held in his hand.

Old Gando's knees knocked together, and he fled the spot. Of one thing he was very sure. Florimel without loss of time should place himself far beyond the reach of his wicked uncle. Each added moment increased the prince's danger. Soon escape might be too late. Before he went to warn the sleeping prince he secured the bow and quiver of arrows that had been intrusted to his care by the late king. He hastily provided himself with a smock, loose cap, and long trousers of coarse cloth such as children of poor peasants wear.

With these in his trembling arms, breathless from his exertions and the great excitement under which he labored, he entered Florimel's bedchamber, and closed the door noiselessly behind him. With his fair head resting on his curved arm, Florimel slept. Gando gave a great sigh of relief when he heard his gentle breathing. He flew to the bedside, and straightway roused the slumbering prince from his dreams.

"Oh, master, my dear young master!" he cried with his voice broken by sobs. "Rouse yourself, I beg of you, and go hence! Do not delay, or you may be too late. Your cruel uncle this very moment is plotting your death!"

Florimel sprang up in bed, and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"But where shall I go, good Gando?" he asked.

"That I know not," said the old man. "The further you go the better. You must leave behind you the boundaries of the kingdom. See, I have brought these peasant's clothes for you to wear."

"Nay, I still have my prince's attire," said Florimel.

"That will not serve," said Gando. "If you donned it you would be quickly recognized, and your uncle would gain knowledge of you to your swift undoing."

He assisted the bewildered Florimel to dress, swung across his back the quiver of arrows, and handed him the bow.

"This was your godmother's gift," he said, "and it might aid you."

But, though Gando urged Florimel not to take the time, the latter printed something on a card which he tacked upon the outside of the door before they left the place.

As they fled toward a secret exit they heard down the corridor the stealthy tread of feet.

The duke snarled like a wild beast as he read the lines:

"FAREWELL, DEAR UNCLE! KEEP YOUR EDGED TOOL FOR FATTED SWINE!"

"Fly!" old Gando cried, as he thrust Florimel out into the lonely, starlit night. "Oh, my dear young master, fly for your life!"

It was a sad and sudden change indeed for the youth, from the pleasant dreams of guardian Brownies surrounding his bed, to the uncertainty of an unknown way before, and the certainty of a cruel enemy behind. Snow-capped mountain peaks in the distance had a forbidding look and, as though in league with his old uncle, seemed to extend to him but a cool welcome. The wakeful and observing beasts of the wood and wild saw in him a new character never before met in the open country, and were shaken with wonder and agitation while they watched the hastening little traveller striding along the lonely road, his only burden the bow and supply of arrows.

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