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Await thy Prince from that enchanted shore Beyond the rainbow's end, and read with him Thy magic runes. This charge I lay on him That he shall love thee more than I farewell! Thy father, ARCHIATER To Josian my daughter and sole heiress. Alan was gathering his French for some sort of greeting, when the young girl spoke in a sweet clear voice and in English.
He had gone from one place to another in such company as offered, many a time, but here were folk who knew every road and every inn, beguiled the hours with songs and jests and stories, and made the time pass like a holiday. He found that his knowledge of the out-of-door world interested Josian more than the ballads and tales of the others.
"Mouldi what strange beast is that, Al-an?" and Alan laughed and explained that it was a mole. It was at noon of one of the long fragrant days of early summer, while the travelers rested in the forest, that Josian spoke of the jester once more. In the green stillness of the deep woods, birds singing and shy delicate blossoms gemming the moss, the fierce and savage past was like a dream.
Alan's face had gone whiter than the parchment. Here indeed was the treasure he had come to seek. And it was Josian's free gift. But that was not all. "Josian," he said, not putting out his hand even to touch the precious parcel, "you must not give away these manuscripts so lightly. They are worth much gold, child they are a rich dowry for you.
The jester bowed low, his gay fantastic cap in hand, all his fleering, mocking manner changed to a gentle deference. "Josian, my dear," he said, "this is the young man of whom I sent you word. He has traveled many weary miles to see and speak with Archiater's daughter."
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