On a Pincushion · The Hair Tree (4/5)

The sailor thanked the swan for its advice, and sprang upon the mound. It was covered with plants bearing such flowers as man had never seen before. Some of them were like mouths⁠—soft red lips folded over the whitest rows of shining teeth; and when Rupert struck one of them by chance, they gave a loud angry cry, whilst all the others burst into such weird laughter that he thought it dreadful to hear. But one and all, as he passed by them, swayed their long stalks towards him, and said, “Let me give you a kiss⁠—only one: let me kiss your cheek.” But he minded what the swan had said, and, keeping carefully out of their reach, turned to examine the other flowers. Some were like delicate waxen ears, and these, with their dark green leaves, he did not think at all ugly. But the prettiest of all grew on long slender stalks, and bent like lilies, and their flowers were like human eyes. Big eyes, small eyes, blue eyes, brown eyes, black eyes, hazel eyes, eyes with long black lashes, eyes with scarcely any, eyes with heavy lids⁠—all sorts of eyes, all looking curiously at him. He thought them so pretty that he determined to gather some, and on coming to a very beautiful bright blue eye, he put his hand to the stalk to break it off, but thereupon it wept such floods of tears that the sailor felt sorry for it, and left it glistening on its stem, whereat all the lips burst into a chorus of shrill laughter. But now he was nearing the wonderful Hair Tree, and could think of nothing else. All round it grew a double row of dark green plants, with long stiff leaves, from whose centres grew tall solid silver rods in the place where flowers should be. These rods stood so near together that they made quite a compact railing around the Hair Tree, and it was impossible to get to it without passing through their line.

Drawing close to them, the sailor examined them carefully, to see where they could be gathered, for doubtless these were the rods of which Trevina spoke. They seemed to be fastened into the plants with a sort of hinge, and beneath this Rupert took hold of one to break it off, but no sooner had he begun to pull, than the rod, swinging on its joint, dealt him a smart blow on the face, which made him stagger back, and all the lip flowers laughed again.

“Oh! zirbal nuts,” he cried, taking one from his pocket, “you have helped me before, help me again.” No sooner had he spoken than all the lips cried out, “A nut, a nut⁠—give us a nut!”

Then a beautiful rosy mouth, growing on a very tall stalk, turned to the others and called, “Silence!” and bending towards Rupert said, “Listen; take out your penknife and cut that nut in pieces, and give them to us, and we will bite off some of the silver rods for you, so that you can pass through to the Hair Tree.”

Rupert agreed, and taking out his penknife began to chop up the nut, whilst a number of mouths turned themselves to the silver rods and began to bite their stalks. It was vain for the rods to slash about, they could not hurt the lip-flowers, who went on steadily gnawing till half a dozen rods lay on the ground, leaving a clear path through to the Hair Tree.

Rupert at once gave the pieces of nut to the mouths (which opened greedily to receive them), and walked up to the tree and stood beneath it.

What a wonderful tree it was! The hair rippled down from all its branches, and was of all colours⁠—black outside, and growing lighter and lighter till, quite near the trunk, it was of fine pure gold. Rupert took hold of it and passed it through his fingers. How soft and thick it felt! What would not the court ladies have given for even a tiny branch of it. Then he thought of the Queen’s hair, and turned to look for the seeds.

He found them in little pods growing close to the branches, and at once tried to pull them off. But he found that they grew on hairs so long and thick that he had to take out his knife and cut them, and even then it was a long time before he could gather any quantity. At last he succeeded in picking a handful, and, wrapping them carefully in his handkerchief, placed them in his bosom. When he turned to go, the eye-flowers had all closed, and were evidently fast asleep; the lips, too, were shut and still, and said nothing as he passed them. The black sun was fast sinking, and the black rays had become longer and darker. Rupert walked quickly down to where the yellow swan was waiting, carrying the silver rods with him.

“Make haste,” said the swan; “what a long time you’ve been! It’s getting quite light, and I want to go to sleep.”

“To sleep!” said the sailor, staring. “Why, one goes to sleep when it gets dark, one wakes when it’s light.”

“Does one?” said the swan, scornfully. “That would be very foolish; where would be the use of going to sleep, and shutting one’s eyes in the dark? The dark never hurts anyone’s eyes. Of course one shuts one’s eyes when it’s too light, and it would hurt one to keep them open.”

Rupert was silent, not knowing what to say, and the swan swam with him quickly across the water.

“Now,” he said, as he landed him on the other side, “give me my nut, and take my advice, go away as quickly as you can. It’s getting so light that soon you won’t be able to see anything for the glare.”

Rupert obeyed, and turned at once to go back, for a dull glaring light was beginning to spread everywhere as the black sun sank, and no sooner had it disappeared than the light became so intense that he could scarcely see, and had to shade his eyes with his hands as he felt his way to the door in the wall. This time no speech on his part was necessary, for it stood wide open, though it shut with a loud bang as soon as he had passed through it. He walked as quickly as he could down the long dark passage, and out into the broad daylight again, and there he sat down to think over all the strange things he had seen. He would have believed it all a dream, but for the seeds in his bosom and the rods at his side. And there, just as he had left them, were the long rows of sunflowers with the beautiful faces looking over their tops, and the white arms and hands stretching out from their sides; and then, after a few minutes, he saw the tigress coming towards him, walking very slowly, as if she had scarcely strength to move, and looking very thin.

“At last you are come,” she cried, when she saw him; “how long I have waited for you!”

“Long!” said Rupert, staring with surprise; “why, I have not been gone many hours.”

“Hours!” said the tigress, feebly; “why, you have been gone six months.”

“Six months!” cried Rupert, “and it has seemed to me like two hours.”

“But you have returned, and have brought the rod with you,” she said, joyfully. “So now all is right. But I am very hungry, for I have not been able to find any grass or herbs for a week. So now make haste and beat me at once.”

“Beat you, you poor starved creature!” cried the sailor, looking pityingly at her; “beat a poor thing who has scarcely strength to crawl! I wouldn’t do such a thing for the world!”

“Beat me⁠—beat me, I tell you,” called the tigress, writhing on the ground in front of him. “Beat me at once, or it will be the worse for both of us.” Then she added, in a terrible voice, “Did I not tell you I was very hungry? Beat me at once, or I shall eat you!”

On hearing this, Rupert made no more ado, but, seizing the silver rod, began to thrash the tigress with all his might. She stood quite still to receive his blows, only every now and then urging him on by calling⁠—

“Harder! Beat harder!”

Rupert obeyed, and continued to beat till he saw that she was bleeding, and then, just as he was going to fling aside the rod and declare he would beat no longer, her skin began to shrivel, and at last fell to the ground, and there arose from it the loveliest maiden Rupert had ever beheld. Her hair, of burning gold, was worthy of the Hair Tree itself, whilst her shining blue eyes and rosy lips were far more beautiful than the strange flowers that grew about it.

Rupert stood still staring at her in wonder, but she at once put out her hand and said, “How can I thank you enough for what you have done for me? I am Trevina. Now let us hurry away from this dreadful place as fast as we can, but first give me a nut to protect me from spells.”

Rupert at once gave her one, and as she fastened it into the bosom of her dress, she turned to him and asked with a smile, “Am I like what you expected?”

“You are far, far more beautiful,” answered he; “is it really possible that you were that tigress?”

“I was indeed that tigress,” said Trevina, as they began to walk quickly to the shore; “and should most likely have remained so but for you. As it is, I shall not feel comfortable till we are off this dreadful island; although the zirbal nuts are the best protection we could have.”

“Now, indeed, am I thankful that the Queen lost her hair,” cried Rupert, “since it has helped me to set you free, lovely Trevina.”

They soon found the little boat, and getting into it sailed away as fast as they could.

After a little time Rupert remembered the bird and his promise, and said to Trevina that he supposed they should soon see him coming for his nuts.

“You have just eight nuts left, and you have promised the eagle six,” said Trevina. “By all means give him the six you promised him, but let me entreat you to keep the remaining two. One I have here, and be sure you do not let him have the other. Remember that the moment you have parted from it, he will have as much power over you as he had over the poor Queen. He will beg you for it, but he must not have it.”

Rupert promised, and in a very short time they saw the eagle flying towards them. He flew round them in circles, and at last alighted on the prow of the boat.

“Well,” he said, fiercely, looking towards Rupert, “I see you have the seeds. Now where are my nuts?”

“Here they are,” said he, taking six from his pocket, and giving them to him. He took them in his claws and hid them in his feathers, but still he did not go.

“You have yet got one more,” he said; “what are you going to do with it? You do not eat zirbal nuts.”

“I mean to keep it as a curiosity,” answered the sailor.

“But what use will that be?” croaked the bird; “will you not give it to me?”

“No, I can’t do that,” said Rupert; “you must be content with what you’ve got.”

“In my nest at home,” said the eagle, “I have seven little eaglets, and you have only given me six nuts to take to them. Will you not give me your other nut to take to my youngest little eaglet?”

On hearing this the sailor fingered the nut in his pocket and looked at the bird, and was just going to give it to him, when Trevina laid her hand on his arm to stop him, and turning to the eagle said⁠—

“It is no use your asking for the nut, for he will not give it to you. I know quite well that you have no little eaglets at home, that it is all false, and that you only say it to get the nut from him.”

Then the eagle turned, and, giving one fearful shriek, rose into the air and flew away, and Rupert and Trevina never saw him more.

A whole year had passed away since the Queen had dreamt the strange dream, and still her head was bald; and no one could tell how to make the hair grow again. Men had sought far and wide. The King had sent messengers to every part of the world. All sorts of strange plants had been brought and stranger remedies suggested. But it was quite evident that no one had found the real Hair Tree.

The Queen had been ill for months, and now scarcely ever appeared in public. At last, when she had quite made up her mind that she would never recover her hair, she sent for the King, and told him that she was seriously thinking of shutting herself up for the rest of her life, and would only consent again to appear on the condition that he should order that all the women in the land should have their heads shaved and wear caps just like hers. The King, in great consternation, begged her to reconsider her decision, but she was firm, and as he could not bear the thought of parting with her, he at last consented to publish a proclamation ordering that all the women in the country, from the greatest duchess to the poorest beggar, were to have their heads shaved, in order that the Queen might not be annoyed by the sight of their hair.

Great was the anger and discontent with which this order was received, but the people dared not disobey the King, so after a great deal of grumbling they agreed to submit in silence, and a day was settled on which the shaving was to take place, for the Queen wished it to be performed in public.

At her suggestion the King had an immense scaffold put up in the marketplace, and on it the court barber was to stand, whilst all the women, from the highest to the lowest, came before him in turn and had their heads shaved quite close. State seats were erected on one side, on which the King and Queen and court would sit to watch the shaving.

When all this was settled, the Queen grew as cheerful as possible. She said it was almost as good as having her own hair back again.

The different messengers whom the King had sent in search of the Hair Tree still kept returning, each one bringing with him some strange new plant, but nothing that could do the Queen any good; and thus the time passed till the shaving day came.

All the streets were hung with black, and the chair in which the ladies were to sit to be shaved was hung with black also.

Early in the morning a great crowd had assembled, and then the King and Queen came down and took seats, and the shaving was to begin.

The crier took out his list of the ladies’ names, and called out the first, which was that of a duchess who was quite young and very beautiful. She rose slowly from her seat, sobbing bitterly, and walked towards the black chair.

She was dressed in a long black serge dress, without any ornament, but her beautiful white neck and arms were bare, and over her shoulders to her waist rippled her bright soft brown hair. She looked so young and so miserable that there was a general groan at the idea that all her lovely locks must fall.

With a last sob, the duchess took her seat in the dreadful chair, and, closing her eyes, resigned herself to her fate. The barber sharpened his razor, and was just going to begin, whilst all held their breath from excitement, when a voice was heard crying “Stop!” And in a minute all saw a sailor rushing towards the scaffold, panting and out of breath, but holding out something in his right hand.

“Stop!” he shouted, as loudly as he could, directly he found breath to speak. “I have got it the hair seeds from the real Hair Tree!”

On hearing this the barber flung away his razor, and the Queen screamed outright.

The courtiers and the King danced a jig for joy, whilst the duchess who was to have been shaved, threw her arms round the sailor’s neck, and kissed him at once.

“Only try” cried Rupert, eagerly, “before you shave them; they came from the Hair Tree. I picked them myself.”

On hearing this, the Queen, unable to contain her impatience any longer, dashed through the crowd, and pushing the duchess on one side. Sprang into the black chair herself.

“There is no time like the present,” she cried pulling off her muslin cap, and flinging it to the ground, quite heedless of showing her bare shining head to the crowd. “Put some on yourself, dear sailor, and let us see how they do.”

A thrill of excitement ran through the crowd, whilst, amidst a dead silence, Rupert opened the packet, and carefully and slowly sprinkled the seeds over the Queen’s bent head. In a moment a soft fine down began to appear all over it, growing thicker and darker every moment, till it was curly hair, which grew longer and longer as they watched it.