“You are mad over this Elfin King. I tell you:he is a Knight in a green vesture. I want to know his name and degree. I will follow him till I find him.”
Without another word he put spurs to his horse and galloped off. He left Earl St. Clair alone upon the moorland. Earl St. Clair's fingers touched the sacred Sign. His lips muttered prayers for protection. He knew that his friend was bewitched. But Earl St. Clair was a brave gentleman and decided to follow his friend and save him.
Meanwhile Earl Gregory rode on and on, over moor, and burn, and moss. At last, he came to the desolate region. The wind blew cold. The hoar-frost lay thick and white on the withered grass at his feet.
And there, in front of him, he saw a terrible thing. He saw an enormous Ring on the ground. The grass inside was lush, and rank, and green. Hundreds of shadowy Elfin figures danced there. They were clad in loose transparent robes of dull blue. Their robes curled and twisted round their wearers like snaky wreaths of smoke.
These weird Goblins shouted and sang songs, and waved their arms above their heads. They threw themselves about on the ground. Suddenly they saw Earl Gregory outside the Ring. They beckoned to him with their skinny fingers.
“Come hither, come hither,” they shouted; “we will drink to you out of our Monarch's cup!”
The spell over the young Earl was powerful. In spite of his fear, he felt that he must obey the eldritch summons. He threw his bridle on his horse's neck. He prepared to join them. An old Goblin stepped out from among his companions. The Goblin approached him. Apparently he dared not leave the charmed Circle. He stopped at the edge of it. Then he whispered in a hoarse whisper:
“I don't know who you are. I don't know from whence you come, Sir Knight. But if you love your life, don't come within this Ring. Don't join us.”
But Earl Gregory only laughed.
“I will follow the Green Knight. That's my promise,” he replied.
With these words he stepped over the edge of the Circle. He came to the ghostly dancers.
They shouted louder than ever. They danced more madly. They sang more lustily. Then a silence fell upon them. They parted into two companies, and left a way through their midst. They signed to the Earl to pass it.
He walked through their ranks. He came to the middle of the Circle. There the Knight sat at a table of red marble. He was clad in his grass-green robes. Before him, on the table, stood a wondrous emerald goblet. It was decorated with blood-red rubies.
This cup was filled with heather ale. That ale foamed up over the brim. The Knight saw Sir Gregory, and he lifted it from the table. He handed it to him with a bow. Sir Gregory was very thirsty, and drank.
He noticed that the ale in the goblet never grew less. It foamed up to the edge again. For the first time his heart misgave him. But, alas! No time for regrets. Strange numbness caught his limbs. Chill pallor crept over his face. The goblet dropped from his fingers. He fell down before the Elfin King like a dead man.
A great shout of triumph went up from all the company. That adventure filled their hearts with joy. They liked to entice some unwary mortal into their Ring and throw their uncanny spell over him. Now he will spend long years in their company.
But soon their shouts of triumphs began to die away. Their keen ears heard a sound. That sound filled their hearts with dread. It was the sound of human footsteps. The footsteps were so free that they knew at once that the stranger was untouched by any charm.
It was the brave Earl St. Clair who approached. He was fearless and strong because of the Holy Sign. He saw the charmed Ring and the eldritch dancers. He wanted to step over its magic border. But the little grizzled Goblin came and whispered to him also.
“Alas! alas!” he exclaimed, with a look of sorrow on his wrinkled face, “you come here, as your companion, to pay your toll of years to the Elfin King. Oh! if you have wife or child, I beseech you to turn back.”
“Who are you? Where are you from?” asked the Earl.
He looked kindly down at the little creature in front of him.
“I came from your country,” wailed the Goblin. “I was once a mortal man, even as you. But I crossed over the enchanted moor. The Elfin King appeared in the guise of a beauteous Knight. He looked brave, and noble, and generous. I followed him hither, and drank of his heather ale. Now I must bide here for seven long years. And your friend, too, drank of the accursed draught. He now lies at our lawful Monarch's feet. He will wake up. But it will be in such a guise as I wear.”
“Is there anything that I can do to rescue him!” cried Earl St. Clair eagerly. “I have no fear of the spell of his cruel captor. I bear the Sign of One Who is stronger than he. Speak speedily, little man.”
“Yes, there is something that you can do,” whispered the Goblin, “but it is a desperate attempt. If you fail, then not even the Power of the Blessed Sign will save you.”
“And what is that?” asked the Earl impatiently.
“You must remain motionless,” answered the old man, “in the cold and frost till dawn break. Soon they will sing Matins in the Holy Church. Then you must walk slowly nine times round the edge of the enchanted Circle. After that you must walk boldly across it to the red marble table where the Elfin King sits. On it you will see an emerald goblet with heather ale. You must carry it away. But let no word cross your lips. This enchanted ground whereon we dance may look solid to your eyes. But in reality it is not so. It is a quaking bog. There is a great lake under it. A fearsome Monster dwells there. If you utter a word, you will fall through the bog. You will perish in the waters beneath.”
The Grisly Goblin stepped back among his companions. He left Earl St. Clair alone on the outskirts of the charmed Ring.
There Earl St. Clair waited, through the long, dark hours. The grey dawn began to break over the hilltops. Then the Elfin forms before him dwindled and faded away.
Soon the sound of the Matin Bell[18] came across the moor. Earl St. Clair began his solemn walk. Round and round the Ring he paced. He walked steadily. When he finished, he stepped boldly on to the enchanted ground. Then he walked across it. All the ghostly Elves and Goblins lay frozen into tiny blocks of ice.
He approached the marble table. The hairs rose on his head at the sight of the Elfin King. In front of him lay Earl Gregory. Two black ravens sat, one on each side of the table. They guarded the emerald goblet.
Earl St. Clair lifted the precious cup. The ravens rose in the air. They circled round his head. The ravens cried with rage. They threatened to dash the cup from his hands with their claws. The frozen Elves, and even their mighty King himself stirred in their sleep, and sat up. But the Power of the Holy Sign restrained them.
Earl St. Clair heard awesome and terrible sounds around him. The ravens shrieked. The frozen Goblins screamed, too. From the lake below came the sound of the breathing of the awful Monster.
But the brave Earl heeded none of these things. He trusted in the Might of the Sign he bore. It carried him safely through all the dangers. The sound of the Matin Bell died away in the morning air. He stepped on to solid ground once more. Then he flung the enchanted goblet from him.
The frozen Elves vanished, along with their King and his marble table. Nothing was left on the rank green grass save Earl Gregory. Earl Gregory slowly woke from his enchanted slumber. He stretched himself, and stood up. He gazed vaguely round him. He scarcely remembered where he was.
Earl St. Clair ran to him. He held his friend in his arms. Then the two friends returned to the wondrous goblet. They found nothing but a piece of rough grey whinstone, with a drop of dew in a little crevice.
1. Who are the eldritch dancers?
1) hardworking farmers
2) brave