The Castle of Kerglas

Peronnik was a poor simpleton who belonged to no one, and he would have starved to death if the villagers hadn't taken pity on him and given him food whenever he asked for it. As for a bed, when night came and he grew sleepy, he looked for a pile of straw, made a hole in it, and crept in like a lizard.

Simple as he was, he was never unhappy, but always thanked those who fed him, and sometimes he would stop and sing to them. He could imitate a lark so well that no one could tell which was Peronnik and which was the bird.

One day he had been wandering in a forest for several hours, and when evening came he suddenly felt very hungry. Luckily, the trees grew thinner just then, and he saw a small farmhouse a little way off. Peronnik went straight toward it and found the farmer's wife standing at the door, holding the large bowl from which her children had eaten their supper.

"I'm hungry. Will you give me something to eat?" asked the boy.

"If you can find anything here, you're welcome to it," she answered. And indeed there wasn't much left, as everyone's spoon had dipped in. But Peronnik ate what was there with a hearty appetite and thought he had never tasted better food.

"It's made of the finest flour and mixed with the richest milk and stirred by the best cook in all the countryside." Though he said it to himself, the woman heard him.

"Poor innocent," she murmured. "He doesn't know what he's saying. But I'll cut him a slice of that new wheat bread." And so she did, and Peronnik ate every crumb and declared that no one less than the bishop's baker could have baked it. This flattered the farmer's wife so much that she gave him some butter to spread on it. Peronnik was still eating it on the doorstep when an armored knight rode up.

"Can you tell me the way to the Castle of Kerglas?" he asked.

"To Kerglas? Are you really going to Kerglas?" cried the woman, turning pale.

"Yes. To get there I've come from a country so far away that it's taken me three months of hard riding to travel this far."

"And why do you want to go to Kerglas?" she asked.

"I'm seeking the golden bowl and the diamond lance that are in the castle," he answered. Then Peronnik looked up.

"The bowl and the lance are very costly things," he said suddenly.

"More costly and precious than all the crowns in the world," replied the stranger. "Not only will the bowl give you the best food you can dream of, but if you drink from it, it will cure you of any illness, however dangerous, and will even bring the dead back to life if it touches their mouths. As for the diamond lance, it can cut through any stone or metal."

"And to whom do these wonders belong?" asked Peronnik in amazement.

"To a magician named Rogear who lives in the castle," answered the woman. "Every day he rides past here on a black mare, with a thirteen-month-old colt trotting behind. But no one dares to attack him, because he always carries his lance."

"That's true," said the knight, "but there's a spell on him that forbids him from using it inside the castle of Kerglas. The moment he enters, the bowl and lance are put away in a dark cellar that no key but one can open. And that's where I wish to fight the magician."

"You'll never overcome him, Sir Knight," replied the woman, shaking her head. "More than a hundred gentlemen have ridden past this house on the same errand, and not one has ever come back."

"I know that, good woman," returned the knight, "but they didn't have, like me, instructions from the hermit of Blavet."

"And what did the hermit tell you?" asked Peronnik.

"He told me that I would have to pass through a wood full of all sorts of enchantments and voices that would try to frighten me and make me lose my way. Most of those who went before me wandered they know not where and died of cold, hunger, or exhaustion."

"Well, suppose you get through safely?" said the simpleton.

"If I do," continued the knight, "I'll then meet a sort of fairy armed with a needle of fire that burns to ashes everything it touches. This dwarf guards an apple tree from which I must pluck an apple."

"And next?" asked Peronnik.

"Next I'll find the flower that laughs, protected by a lion whose mane is made of vipers. I must pluck that flower and go on to the lake of the dragons and fight the black man who holds in his hand the iron ball that never misses its mark and returns of its own accord to its master.

After that, I enter the valley of pleasure, where some who conquered all the other obstacles have left their bones. If I can make it through, I'll reach a river with only one ford, where a lady in black will be seated.

She'll mount my horse behind me and tell me what to do next."

He paused, and the woman shook her head.

"You'll never be able to do all that," she said. But he said these were only matters for men and galloped away down the path she pointed out.

The farmer's wife sighed and gave Peronnik some more food before saying goodnight. The simpleton got up and was opening the gate into the forest when the farmer himself came up.

"I need a boy to tend my cattle," he said abruptly. "The one I had ran away. Will you stay and do it?" And Peronnik, though he loved his freedom and hated work, remembered the good food he had eaten and agreed to stop.

At sunrise he gathered his herd carefully and led them to the rich pasture along the edge of the forest, cutting himself a hazel switch to keep them in order. His task wasn't as easy as it looked, because the cows kept straying into the wood, and by the time he brought one back, another was off.

He had gone some distance into the trees after a naughty black cow that gave him more trouble than all the rest when he heard the sound of horse's feet, and peeping through the leaves he saw the giant Rogear sitting on his mare with the colt trotting behind.

Around the giant's neck hung the golden bowl on a chain, and in his hand he held the diamond lance, which gleamed like fire. But as soon as he was out of sight, the simpleton searched in vain for any trace of the path he had taken.

This happened not once but many times, until Peronnik grew so used to him that he never bothered to hide. But each time he saw him, the desire to own the bowl and the lance grew stronger.

One evening the boy was sitting alone at the edge of the forest when a man with a white beard stopped beside him. "Do you want to know the way to Kerglas?" asked the simpleton. And the man answered, "I know it well."

"You've been there without being killed by the magician?" cried Peronnik.

"Oh, he had nothing to fear from me," replied the white-bearded man. "I am Rogear's older brother, the wizard Bryak. When I want to visit him, I always come this way. Since even I can't go through the enchanted wood without losing myself, I call the colt to guide me." Stooping down as he spoke, he traced three circles on the ground and murmured some words very quietly, which Peronnik couldn't hear. Then he added aloud:

"Colt, free to run and free to eat, / Colt, gallop fast until we meet."

And instantly the colt appeared, frisking and jumping to the wizard, who threw a halter over his neck and leaped onto his back.

Peronnik kept silent at the farm about this adventure, but he understood very well that if he was ever to reach Kerglas, he must first catch the colt that knew the way. Unfortunately, he hadn't heard the magic words the wizard spoke, and he couldn't manage to draw the three circles, so if he was to summon the colt at all, he had to invent some other way.

All day long, while he herded the cows, he thought and thought about how to call the colt, for he felt sure that once on its back he could overcome the other dangers. Meanwhile, he had to be ready in case a chance came, so he made his preparations at night when everyone was asleep.

Remembering what he had seen the wizard do, he patched up an old halter hanging in a corner of the stable, twisted a rope of hemp to catch the colt's feet, and a net like the ones used for snaring birds.

Next he roughly sewed together some bits of cloth to make a pocket, and he filled it with glue and lark's feathers, a string of beads, a whistle made of elder wood, and a slice of bread rubbed with bacon fat.

Then he went out to the path where Rogear, his mare, and the colt always rode and crumbled the bread on one side of it.

Punctual to their hour, all three appeared, eagerly watched by Peronnik, who lay hidden in the bushes close by. Suppose it was useless; suppose the mare, and not the colt, ate the crumbs? Suppose—but no!

The mare and her rider went safely by, vanishing around a corner, while the colt, trotting along with its head low, smelled the bread and began greedily licking up the pieces. Oh, how good it was! Why had no one ever given it that before?

So absorbed was the little beast, sniffing about for a few more crumbs, that it never heard Peronnik creep up until it felt the halter on its neck and the rope around its feet and—in another moment—someone on its back.

Going as fast as the hobbles would allow, the colt turned into one of the wildest parts of the forest, while its rider sat trembling at the strange sights he saw. Sometimes the earth seemed to open in front of them, and he was looking into a bottomless pit; sometimes the trees burst into flames and he found himself in the middle of a fire; often while crossing a stream, the water rose and threatened to sweep him away; and again, at the foot of a mountain, great rocks rolled toward him as if they would crush him and his colt beneath their weight.

To his dying day Peronnik never knew whether these things were real or if he only imagined them, but he pulled down his knitted cap to cover his eyes and trusted the colt to carry him down the right road.

At last the forest was left behind, and they came out onto a wide plain where the air blew fresh and strong. The simpleton dared to peek out and found to his relief that the enchantments seemed to have ended, though a thrill of horror shot through him as he noticed the skeletons of men scattered over the plain, beside the skeletons of their horses. And what were those gray shapes trotting away in the distance? Were they—could they be—wolves?

But vast as the plain seemed, it didn't take long to cross, and soon the colt entered a sort of shady park in which stood a single apple tree, its branches bowed down to the ground with the weight of its fruit. In front was the korigan—the little fairy man—holding in his hand the fiery sword, which reduced to ashes everything it touched. At the sight of Peronnik he let out a piercing scream and raised his sword, but without appearing surprised the youth only lifted his cap, though he took care to stay at a little distance.

"Don't be alarmed, my prince," said Peronnik. "I'm on my way to Kerglas, because the noble Rogear has asked me to come to him on business."

"Asked you to come!" repeated the dwarf. "And who, then, are you?"

"I'm the new servant he has hired, as you know very well," answered Peronnik.

"I don't know at all," rejoined the korigan sulkily. "For all I can tell, you might be a robber."

"I'm sorry," replied Peronnik. "But I may be wrong to call myself a servant, for I'm only a bird-catcher. But please don't delay me, for his highness the magician expects me, and as you see, he has lent me his colt so I can reach the castle all the quicker."

At these words the korigan cast his eyes for the first time on the colt, which he knew to be the magician's, and began to think that the young man was telling the truth. After examining the horse, he studied the rider, who had such an innocent, indeed vacant, air that he seemed incapable of inventing a story. Still, the dwarf didn't feel quite sure that all was right, and asked what the magician wanted with a bird-catcher.

"From what he says, he wants one very badly," replied Peronnik. "He says that all his grain and all the fruit in his garden at Kerglas are eaten up by the birds."

"And how are you going to stop that, my fine fellow?" asked the korigan. Peronnik showed him the snare he had prepared and said that no bird could possibly escape from it.

"That's just what I'd like to be sure of," answered the korigan. "My apples are completely eaten up by blackbirds and thrushes. Lay your snare, and if you can manage to catch them, I'll let you pass."

"That's a fair bargain." As he spoke, Peronnik jumped down and fastened his colt to a tree; then, stopping, he fixed one end of the net to the trunk of the apple tree and called to the korigan to hold the other while he took out the pegs. The dwarf did as he was told, when suddenly Peronnik threw the noose over his neck and drew it tight, and the korigan was held as fast as any of the birds he wished to snare.

Shrieking with rage, he tried to undo the cord, but he only pulled the knot tighter. He had put down the sword on the grass, and Peronnik had been careful to fix the net on the other side of the tree, so that it was now easy for him to pluck an apple and mount his horse, without being hindered by the dwarf, whom he left to his fate.

When they had left the plain behind them, Peronnik and his steed found themselves in a narrow valley where there was a grove of trees full of all sorts of sweet-smelling things—roses of every color, yellow broom, pink honeysuckle—while above them all towered a wonderful scarlet pansy whose face bore a strange expression.

This was the flower that laughs, and no one who looked at it could help laughing too. Peronnik's heart beat high at the thought that he had reached the second trial safely, and he gazed quite calmly at the lion with the mane of vipers twisting and twirling, who walked up and down in front of the grove.

The young man pulled up and removed his cap, for, simple as he was, he knew that when you have to deal with people greater than yourself, a cap is more useful in the hand than on the head. Then, after wishing all kinds of good fortune to the lion and his family, he asked if he was on the right road to Kerglas.

"And what's your business at Kerglas?" asked the lion with a growl, showing his teeth.

"With all respect," answered Peronnik, pretending to be very frightened, "I'm the servant of a lady who is a friend of the noble Rogear and sends him some larks for a pie."

"Larks?" cried the lion, licking his long whiskers. "Why, it must be a century since I've had any! Do you have a large quantity with you?"

"As many as this bag will hold," replied Peronnik, opening the bag he had filled with feathers and glue. To prove what he said, he turned his back on the lion and began to imitate the song of a lark.

"Come," exclaimed the lion, whose mouth watered, "show me the birds! I'd like to see if they're fat enough for my master."

"I'd do it with pleasure," answered the simpleton, "but if I open the bag, they'll all fly away."

"Well, open it wide enough for me to look in," said the lion, drawing a little nearer.

Now this was just what Peronnik had been hoping for, so he held the bag while the lion opened it carefully and put his head right inside to get a good mouthful of larks. But the mass of feathers and glue stuck to him, and before he could pull his head out again, Peronnik had drawn the cord tight and tied it in a knot that no man could untie. Then, quickly gathering the flower that laughs, he rode off as fast as the colt could take him.

The path soon led to the lake of the dragons, which he had to swim across. The colt, who was used to it, plunged into the water without hesitation; but as soon as the dragons caught sight of Peronnik, they came from all parts of the lake to devour him.

This time Peronnik didn't bother to take off his cap, but he threw the beads he carried into the water, like you throw black corn to a duck, and with each bead that a dragon swallowed, it turned on its back and died, so that the simpleton reached the other side without further trouble.

The valley guarded by the black man now lay before him, and from afar Peronnik saw him, chained by one foot to a rock at the entrance, holding the iron ball that never missed its mark and always returned to its master's hand.

The black man had six eyes in his head, never all shut at once, but keeping watch one after the other. At this moment they were all open, and Peronnik knew that if the black man caught a glimpse of him, he would throw his ball.

So, hiding the colt behind a thicket of bushes, he crawled along a ditch and crouched close to the very rock to which the black man was chained.

The day was hot, and after a while the man began to grow sleepy. Two of his eyes closed, and Peronnik sang softly. In a moment a third eye shut, and Peronnik sang on. The lid of a fourth eye dropped heavily, and then those of the fifth and the sixth. The black man was fast asleep.

Then, on tiptoe, the simpleton crept back to the colt, which he led over soft moss past the black man into the Vale of Pleasure, a delicious garden full of fruits that dangled before your mouth, fountains running with wine, and flowers that sang in soft little voices. Further on, tables were spread with food, and girls dancing on the grass called to him to join them.

Peronnik heard them, and scarcely knowing what he did, he slowed the colt down. He sniffed greedily the smell of the dishes and raised his head to see the dancers better. Another moment and he would have stopped altogether and been lost, like others before him, when suddenly there came to him like a vision the golden bowl and the diamond lance.

Drawing his whistle from his pocket, he blew it loudly to drown the sweet sounds around him, and ate what was left of his bread and bacon to still the craving of the magic fruits.

He fixed his eyes steadily on the ears of the colt so that he wouldn't see the dancers.

In this way he was able to reach the end of the garden, and at last he saw the castle of Kerglas, with the river between them that had only one ford. Would the lady be there, as the old man had told him? Yes, surely that was she, sitting on a rock, in a black satin dress, and her face the color of a Moorish woman's. The simpleton rode up and took off his cap more politely than ever, and asked if she didn't wish to cross the river.

"I was waiting for you to help me do so," she answered. "Come near, so I can get up behind you."

Peronnik did as she bade him, and with the help of his arm she jumped nimbly onto the back of the colt.

"Do you know how to kill the magician?" asked the lady as they crossed the ford.

"I thought that since he's a magician, he's immortal and no one can kill him," replied Peronnik.

"Persuade him to taste that apple, and he will die. And if that isn't enough, I'll touch him with my finger, for I am the Plague," she answered.

"But if I kill him, how do I get the golden bowl and the diamond lance that are hidden in the cellar without a key?" rejoined Peronnik.

"The flower that laughs opens all doors and lightens all darkness," said the lady. As she spoke, they reached the far bank and advanced toward the castle.

In front of the entrance was a sort of tent supported on poles, and under it the giant was sitting, basking in the sun. As soon as he noticed the colt carrying Peronnik and the lady, he lifted his head and cried in a voice of thunder:

"Why, it's surely the simpleton, riding my thirteen-month-old colt!"

"Greatest of magicians, you are right," answered Peronnik.

"And how did you manage to catch him?" asked the giant.

"By repeating what I learned from your brother Bryak at the edge of the forest," replied the simpleton. "I just said: 'Colt, free to run and free to eat, / Colt, gallop fast until we meet,' and he came directly."

"You know my brother, then?" asked the giant. "Tell me why he sent you here."

"To bring you two gifts he has just received from the land of the Moors," answered Peronnik: "the apple of delight and the woman of submission. If you eat the apple, you won't desire anything else; and if you take the woman as your servant, you'll never wish for another."

"Well, give me the apple, and tell the woman to get down," answered Rogear.

The simpleton obeyed, but at the first taste of the apple the giant staggered, and as the long yellow finger of the woman touched him, he fell dead.

Leaving the magician where he lay, Peronnik entered the palace, carrying the flower that laughs. Fifty doors flew open before him, and at last he reached a long flight of steps that seemed to lead into the depths of the earth.

He went down until he came to a silver door without a bar or key. Then he held the flower that laughs high, and the door slowly swung back, revealing a deep cavern that was as bright as day from the shining of the golden bowl and the diamond lance.

The simpleton ran forward and hung the bowl around his neck from the chain attached to it, and took the lance in his hand. As he did so, the ground shook beneath him, and with an awful rumbling the palace disappeared, and Peronnik found himself standing close to the forest where he used to lead the cattle to graze.

Though darkness was coming on, Peronnik never thought of going to the farm, but followed the road to the court of the duke of Brittany. As he passed through the town of Vannes, he stopped at a tailor's shop and bought a beautiful costume of brown velvet and a white horse, which he paid for with a handful of gold he had picked up in the corridor of the castle of Kerglas. Thus he made his way to the city of Nantes, which at that moment was besieged by the French.

A little way off, Peronnik stopped and looked about him. For miles around, the countryside was bare, for the enemy had cut down every tree and burned every blade of corn; and, simple as he was, Peronnik could understand that inside the gates men were dying of hunger. He was still gazing with horror when a trumpeter appeared on the walls and, after blowing a loud blast, announced that the duke would adopt as his heir the man who could drive the French out of the country.

On the four sides of the city the trumpeter blew his blast, and the last time Peronnik, who had ridden as close as he dared, answered him.

"You need blow no more," he said, "for I myself will free the town from her enemies." And turning to a soldier who came running up, waving his sword, he touched him with the magic lance, and the soldier fell dead on the spot. The men who were following stood still, amazed. Their comrade's armor hadn't been pierced, of that they were sure, yet he was dead, as if struck to the heart. But before they could recover from their astonishment, Peronnik cried out:

"You see how my foes will fare; now behold what I can do for my friends." And, stooping down, he laid the golden bowl against the soldier's mouth, and the soldier sat up as well as ever. Then, jumping his horse across the trench, he entered the gate of the city, which opened wide enough to receive him.

The news of these marvels quickly spread through the town and put fresh spirit into the garrison, so that they declared themselves ready to fight under the command of the young stranger. And since the bowl restored all the dead Bretons to life, Peronnik soon had an army large enough to drive away the French, and he fulfilled his promise of delivering his country.

As for the bowl and the lance, no one knows what became of them. But some say that Bryak the sorcerer managed to steal them again, and that anyone who wishes to possess them must seek them as Peronnik did.