Chapter II: As the sun rose, Goldhair stepped into the dim aisles of the forest and

“The autumn drought, and the winter rain,
The frost and the snow, and St. David’s wind,
All these that were time out of mind,
All these a many times shall be
Ere the Upland Town again he see.”

He pressed on to where no birds’ notes sounded, nor any noise of life broke the silence, save the soft rustle of some leaf, or the silver tinkle of a stream. Six nights Goldhair lay down under the moonless sky. Six days he walked alone in the wood and his scrip was empty of food and he was footsore and weary when he arose on the seventh morning.

Before him, the trees seemed to open into a softly lit glade and he caught a glimpse of a white beckoning hand, and hastening forward, fell over a great moss-hidden stone and was set upright again by a strong arm, while sweet lips brushed his cheek and he saw before him the sparkling eyes and shining face of the nut-brown fay. She was clad in a brown kirtle, all rent and shredded like the falling bark of an old tree. Her snowy feet were bare and a rustic scrip hung at her side. Now she took from her scrip and gave him rosy apples and brown cakes and a shell with which she dipped him water from a rivulet nearby, and they sat them down together on the grass and began to dine as if they were old friends.

“O fair one with golden hair, and so bravely scarlet clad, what is the name of thee?” asked the fay, and he told her his name and his condition and of how he had set out in quest of fame and fortune.

“But now,” said Jehan, shaking his gold hair so that it sparkled, even in the dark wood, “I want but one thing and that--that you love me as I do love thee.”

“And so I will,” said the brown fay heartily, “and fame and fortune will come to thee if thou art a faithful lover and fearless knight. But many trials must assail us and I have great fear for thee, for already, she who sits in the gray death hall knows you have come; and amid the shadows of evil that obey her will, she is plotting our destruction. Long have I served, a thrall in her hall and bower, and now it will be no easy thing for you to win me and my fortune from her.”

Later when they had come where they could look across the clearing the fay cried to Jehan, “Look forth, O my Goldhair, and see what thou seest,” and Goldhair looked and said, “I see an exceedingly high and handsome castle of rough-hewn stone.”

“Oh, that is my mistress’ home, and I fear to look upon it. What comes down the stony stair, Goldhair?”

“Nothing.”

“No great white bear?”

“Nay, him I would kill with my sword.”

“No great winged serpent?”

“Nay, her I would chop with my sharp blade.”

“No poison flood?”

“Nothing, sweet fay, but leafy shadows flecking the gray stone.”

“No flash of flame?”

“Nay, I would call upon my patron saints and at their blessing it would die away.”

“My heart fails me. O Jehan! In some such guise must my dread mistress appear, for I know well she sees all things in this wood and will never let us fare forth free from it. Look again, beloved Jehan.”

“Ah, now I see a most beautiful queen all alone, dressed in a coat of peacock feathers and shod in gold. How fair she is as she smiles upon me in the sunshine! She beckons me to come. Her hair is like silver lying to her feet.”

“O look not so. O look not so on her! She has bewitched thee, Jehan, her hair is twisted serpents. Dost not see she is an ancient witch, one-eyed and horrible? She is only beautiful by enchantment,” and the fay seized and held his scarlet coat; but Jehan laughed and thrust her from him.

“Thou little brown thrush whom I found in the woods, seek not to peck the robe of light from the queen of beauty.”

The brown fay scarcely knew her lover now; his glance was only for the enchantress, and though the fay could see her dusky skin, skeleton limbs, and horrid, toothless grin, to poor Jehan she seemed a vision of beauty, and with a cry he broke from her hold and ran to fall at the feet of the witch, who threw her arms about his neck and with a triumphant laugh led him into the castle and shut the great iron-bound door upon the poor fay.

All day she sadly wandered through the woods, and finally when night came she lay down under a bramble-bush and sobbed herself to sleep; but as she slept she felt a cool hand touch her brow, and looking up saw a tall being, like a shaft of green light. It was crowned with a garland of leaves and its face was kind and beautiful.

“Fear not, little forest fay,” it said, “thou art a daughter of the trees, and we, the tree-folk, will help thee.”

Now the witch had cast a spell upon Jehan until he saw the empty ruins as a stately castle all filled with costly furnishings and treasures of silver and gold. And her, he saw, as a beautiful queen, and the ugly messengers of evil who came at her bidding, he believed to be gallant lords and fair ladies. All day he sat beside the witch queen on her throne and heard the pretty stories she told him hour by hour. Entranced in a half slumber, he listened to mandolins beside the tinkling fountain of a court that was really a bare, unwatered spot, the home of hideous spiders and spotted toads. All memory of the nut-brown fay seemed gone from him, yet ever and anon he thought he heard a sweet voice call, “Jehan, beware!” “Jehan, beware!” and wondered what it might mean.