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Then poor Queen Godylt fled from the palace, taking with her Hynde Horn and his two playmates Prince Athulph and Prince Fykenyld. I cannot tell you what became of the beautiful queen, but Mury, the cruel king, captured Hynde Horn and made him and his two playfellows prisoners. What should he do with Prince Horn, who was heir to the kingdom he had seized? Should he kill the lad, he wondered.
And that very day King Horn was wedded to the beautiful Princess Jean, with her father's blessing, and amid the rejoicings of the people. And Prince Fykenyld slunk away, ashamed to look his old playmate in the face. Not many months passed ere King Horn and Queen Jean sailed away to reign together in the far East.
They were merry playmates for the little prince, and, as the years rolled by, Athulph and Fykenyld thought there was no one to equal their prince Hynde Horn. They would serve him loyally when he was king and they were men. All went well in the palace of this far-off eastern land until Hynde Horn was fifteen years of age.
Seven years had seemed a long, long time, and now the king was anxious that his daughter should marry and wait no longer for the return of Hynde Horn. And, but this King Horn did not know, Fykenyld, his old companion, loved the princess, and had wooed her long and was waiting to marry her.
And the princess, pale and sad, worn out by long waiting, promised to look no more for Hynde Horn. To please her father and his people, she even promised to marry Hynde Horn's old playfellow, Prince Fykenyld. Ah, but had they only known, King Horn was already hastening towards the palace. Already he had learned that the wedding had not yet taken place.
It is true that in her despair she had yielded to her father's wishes; she had promised to wed Prince Fykenyld that very day. It was no wonder then that she sat on the throne sad at heart, pale of face. Hynde Horn had knocked at the palace gate. It was no humble beggar's rap he gave, but a bold, impatient knock. King Horn had forgotten for the moment that he was only a beggar man.
For it was in the bright glowing land of the sun that his father, King Allof, reigned. The Queen Godylt loved her little son too well to spoil him. She wished him to learn to share his toys, to play his games with other boys. Thus, much to the delight of little Prince Horn, two boys, almost as old as he was, came to live with him in the palace. Athulph and Fykenyld were their names.
Fykenyld had no thought to spare for his old playmate, save to be glad that he had never returned from the far East to claim his bride. But though seven long years had rolled away, Princess Jean had not forgotten Hynde Horn. Forgotten! Nay, day and night he was in her thought, in her heart. Yet was she sure that he would never now return.
False to Hynde Horn was Fykenyld, for ever did he say, 'Hynde Horn is dead, or 'Hynde Horn hath forgotten the Princess Jean, or 'Hynde Horn hath married one of the dark-haired princesses in the far-off East. And never did he leave the palace to go in search of his old playfellow, whom he had once longed to serve.
Now when at length King Horn reached the palace gate, the wedding feast was spread. Princess Jean was sitting on the throne beside her father, Prince Fykenyld on her other side, smiling to himself. He would soon be wedded to the princess, he thought, and in days to come he would reign with her over King Alymer's wide domains.
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