You cannot surely have failed, some time or other, to meet by chance some of those poor idiots, or innocents, whose utmost wisdom scarcely serves to lead them as beggars from door to door in quest of daily bread. One might almost fancy they were straying calves who have lost their way home. They stare all round with open eyes and mouth, as if in search of somewhat; but, alas, that they seek is not plentiful enough in these parts to be found upon the highways—for it is common sense.

Peronnik was one of these poor idiots, to whom the charity of strangers had been in place of father or of mother. He wandered ever onwards unconscious whither; when he was thirsty, he drank from wayside springs; when hungry, he begged stale crusts from the women he saw standing at their doors; and when in need of sleep, he looked out for a heap of straw, and hollowed himself out a nest in it like a lizard.

As to any knowledge of a trade, Peronnik had, indeed, never learnt one; but for all that he was skilful enough in many matters: he could go on eating as long as you desired him to do so; he could outsleep any one for any length of time; and he could imitate with his tongue the song of larks. There is many a one now in these parts who cannot do so much as this.

At the time of which I am telling you (that is, many a hundred years ago and more), the land of White-Wheat was not altogether what you see it nowadays. Since then many a gentleman has devoured his inheritance, and cut up his forests into wooden shoes. Thus the forest of Paimpont extended over more than twenty parishes; some say it even crossed the river, and went as far as Elven. However that may be, Peronnik came one day to a farm built upon the border of the wood; and as the Benedicite bell had long since rung in his stomach, he drew near to ask for food.

The farmer’s wife happened at that moment to be kneeling down on the door-sill to scrape the soup-bowl with her flint-stone;2 but when she heard the idiot’s voice asking for food in the name of God, she stopped and held the kettle towards him.

“Here,” she cried, “poor fellow, eat these scrapings, and say an ‘Our Father’ for our pigs, that nothing on earth will fatten.”

Peronnik seated himself on the ground, put the kettle between his knees, and began to scrape it with his nails; but it was little enough he could succeed in finding, for all the spoons in the house had already done their duty upon it. However, he licked his fingers, and made an audible grunt of satisfaction, as if he had never tasted any thing better.

“It is millet-flour,” said he, in a low voice,—“millet-flour moistened with the black cow’s milk,3 and by the best cook in the whole Low Country.”

The farmer’s wife, who was going by, turned round delighted.

“Poor innocent,” said she, “there is little enough of it left; but I will add a scrap of rye-bread.”

And she brought the lad the first cutting of a round loaf just out of the oven. Peronnik bit into it like a wolf into a lamb’s leg, and declared that it must have been kneaded by the baker to his lordship the Bishop of Vannes.

The flattered peasant replied, that was nothing to the taste of it when spread with fresh-churned butter; and to prove her words, she brought him some in a little covered saucer. After taking this, the idiot declared that this was living butter, not to be excelled by butter of the White Week itself;4 and to give greater force to his words, he poured over his crust all that the saucer contained. But the satisfaction of the farmer’s wife prevented her from noticing this; and she added to what she had already given him a lump of dripping left from the Sunday soup.

Peronnik praised every mouthful more and more, and swallowed every thing as if it had been water from a spring; for it was very long since he had made so good a meal.

The farmer’s wife went and came, watching him as he ate, and adding from time to time sundry scraps, which he took, making each time the sign of the cross.

Whilst thus employed in recruiting himself, behold a knight appeared at the house-door, and addressing himself to the woman, asked her which was the road to Kerglas castle.

“Heavens! good gentleman,” exclaimed the farmer’s wife, “are you going there?”

“Yes,” replied the warrior; “and I have come from a land so distant for this purpose, that I have been travelling night and day these three months to get so far on my way.”

“And what are you come to seek at Kerglas?” asked the Breton woman.

“I am come in quest of the golden basin and the diamond lance.”

“These two are, then, very valuable things?” asked Peronnik.

“They are of more value than all the crowns on earth,” replied the stranger; “for not only will the golden basin produce instantaneously all the dainties and the wealth one can desire, but it suffices to drink therefrom to be healed of every malady; and the dead themselves are raised to life by touching it with their lips. As to the diamond lance, it kills and overthrows all that it touches.”

“And to whom do this diamond lance and golden basin belong?” asked Peronnik, bewildered.

“To a magician called RogÉar, who lives in the castle of Kerglas,” answered the farmer’s wife. “He is to be seen any day near the forest pathway, riding along upon his black mare followed by a colt of three months’ old; but no one dares to attack him, for he holds the fearful lance in his hand.”

“Yes,” replied the stranger; “but the command of God forbids him to make use of it within the castle of Kerglas. So soon as he arrives there, the lance and the basin are deposited at the bottom of a dark cave, which no key will open; therefore, it is in that place I propose to attack the magician.”

“Alas, you will never succeed, my good sir,” replied the peasant woman. “More than a hundred gentlemen have already attempted it; but not one amongst them has returned.”

“I know that, my good woman,” answered the knight; “but they had not been instructed as I have by the Hermit of Blavet.”

“And what did the Hermit tell you?” asked Peronnik.

“He warned me of all that I shall have to do,” replied the stranger. “First of all, I shall have to cross an enchanted wood, wherein every kind of magic will be put in force to terrify and bewilder me from my way. The greater number of my predecessors have lost themselves, and there died of cold, hunger, or fatigue.”

“And if you succeed in crossing it?” said the idiot.

“If I get safely through it,” continued the gentleman, “I shall meet a Korigan armed with a fiery sword, which lays all it touches in ashes. This Korigan keeps watch beside an apple-tree, from which it is necessary that I should gather one apple.”

“And then?” said Peronnik.

“Then I shall discover the laughing flower, and this is guarded by a lion whose mane is made of vipers. This flower I must also gather; after which I must cross the lake of dragons to fight the black man, who flings an iron bowl that ever hits its mark and returns to its master of its own accord. Then I shall enter on the valley of delights, where every thing that can tempt and stay the feet of a Christian will be arrayed before me, and shall reach a river with one single ford. There I shall meet a lady clad in sable whom I shall take upon my horse’s crupper, and she will tell me all that remains to be done.”

The farmer’s wife did her best to persuade the stranger that it would be impossible for him to go through so many trials; but he replied that women were incapable of judging in so weighty a matter; and after ascertaining correctly the forest entrance, he set off at full gallop, and was soon lost among the trees.

The farmer’s wife heaved a deep sigh, declaring that here was another soul going before our Lord for judgment; then giving some more crusts to Peronnik, she bade him go on his way.

He was about to follow her advice, when the farmer came in from the fields. He had just been turning off the lad who looked after his cows at the wood-side, and was revolving in his mind how his place should be supplied.

The sight of the idiot was to him as a ray of light; he thought he had happened on the very thing he sought, and after putting a few questions to Peronnik, he asked him bluntly if he would stay at the farm to look after the cattle. Peronnik would have preferred having no one but himself to look after, for no one had a greater aptitude than he for doing nothing; but the taste of the lard, the fresh butter, the rye-bread, and the millet-flour hung still sweet upon his lips; so he suffered himself to be tempted, and accepted the farmer’s proposal.

The good man forthwith conducted him to the edge of the forest, counted aloud all the cows, not forgetting the heifers, cut him a hazel-switch to drive them with, and bade him bring them safely home at set of sun.

Behold Peronnik now established as a keeper of cattle, watching over them to see they did no mischief, and running from the black to the red, and from the red to the white, to keep them from straying out of the appointed boundary.

Now whilst he was thus running from side to side, he heard suddenly the sound of horse’s hoofs, and saw in one of the forest-paths the giant RogÉar seated on his mare, followed by her three-months’ colt. He carried from his neck the golden basin, and in his hand the diamond lance, which glittered like flame. Peronnik, terrified, hid himself behind a bush; the giant passed close by him and went on his way. As soon as he was gone by, the idiot came out of his hiding-place, and looked down in the direction he had taken, but without being able to see which path he had followed.

Well, armed knights came on unceasingly in quest of the castle of Kerglas, and not one was ever seen to return. The giant, on the contrary, took his airing every day as usual. The idiot, who had at length grown bolder, no longer thought of concealing himself when he passed, but looked after him as long as he was in sight with envious eyes; for the desire of possessing the golden basin and the diamond lance grew stronger every day within his heart. But these things, alas, were more easily desired than obtained.

One day, when Peronnik was all alone in the pasture-land as usual, he saw a man with a white beard pausing at the entrance of the forest-path. The idiot took him for some fresh adventurer, and inquired if he did not seek the road to Kerglas.

“I seek it not, since I already know it,” replied the stranger.

“You have been there, and the magician has not killed you?” exclaimed the idiot.

“Because he has nothing to fear from me,” replied the white-bearded old man. “I am called the sorcerer Bryak, and am RogÉar’s elder brother. When I wish to pay him a visit I come here, and as, in spite of all my power, I cannot cross the enchanted wood without losing my way, I call the black colt to carry me.”

With these words, he traced three circles with his finger in the dust, repeated in a low tone such words as demons teach to sorcerers, and then cried,

The little horse speedily made his appearance. Bryak put him on a halter, shackled his feet, and then mounting on his back, allowed him to return into the forest.

Peronnik said nothing of this adventure to any one; but he now understood that the first step towards visiting Kerglas was to secure the colt that knew the way. Unfortunately he knew neither how to trace the three circles, nor to pronounce the magic words necessary for the colt to hear the summons. Some other method, therefore, must be hit upon for making himself master of it, and, when once it was captured, of gathering the apple, plucking the laughing flower, escaping the black man’s bowl, and of crossing the valley of delights.

Peronnik thought it all over for a long time, and at last he fancied himself able to succeed. Those who are strong go forth clad in their strength to meet danger, and too often perish in it; but the weak compass their ends sideways. Having no hope of braving the giant, the idiot resolved to try craft and cunning. As to difficulties, he suffered them not to scare him: he knew that medlars are hard as flint-stones when first gathered, and that a little straw and much patience softens them at length.

So he made all his preparations against the time when the giant usually appeared in the forest-path. First he made a halter and a horse-shackle of black hemp; a springe for taking woodcocks, moistening the hairs of it in holy water; a cloth-bag full of birdlime and lark’s feathers; a rosary, an elder-whistle, and a bit of crust rubbed with rancid lard. This done, he crumbled the bread given him for breakfast along the pathway in which RogÉar, his mare, and three months’ colt would shortly pass.

They all three appeared at the usual hour, and crossed the pasture as on other days; but the colt, which was walking with hanging head, snuffing the ground, smelt out the crumbs of bread, and stopped to eat them, so that it was soon left alone out of the giant’s sight. Then Peronnik drew gently near, threw his halter over it, fastened the shackle on two of its feet, jumped upon its back, and left it free to follow its own course, certain that the colt, which knew its way, would carry him to the castle of Kerglas.

And so it came to pass; for the young horse took unhesitatingly one of the wildest paths, and went on as rapidly as the shackle would permit.

Peronnik trembled like a leaf; for all the witchery of the forest was at work to scare him. One moment it seemed as if a bottomless pit yawned suddenly before his steed; the next all the trees appeared on fire, and he found himself surrounded by flames; often whilst in the act of crossing a brook, it became as a torrent, and threatened to carry him away; at other times, whilst following a little footway beneath a gentle slope, he saw huge rocks on the point of rolling down and crushing him to pieces.

In vain he assured himself these were but magical delusions, he felt his very marrow grow cold with dread. At last he resolutely pulled his hat down over his eyes, and let the colt carry him blindly onwards.

Thus they both came safely to a plain where all enchantment ceased, and Peronnik pushed up his cap and looked about him.

It was a barren spot, and gloomier than a cemetery. Here and there might be seen the skeletons of gentlemen who had come in quest of Kerglas Castle. There they lay, stretched beside their horses, and the gray wolves still gnawing at their bones.

At length the idiot entered a meadow entirely overshadowed by one single apple-tree; and this was so heavily laden with fruit, that the branches hung to the ground. Before this tree the Korigan kept watch, grasping in his hand the fiery sword which would lay all it touched in ashes.

At sight of Peronnik, he uttered a cry like that of a wild bird, and raised his weapon; but, without betraying any emotion, the lad simply touched his hat politely, and said,

“Don’t disturb yourself, my little prince; I am only passing by on my way to Kerglas, according to an appointment the Lord RogÉar has made with me.”

“With you?” replied the dwarf; “and who, then, may you be?”

“I am our master’s new servant,” said the idiot; “you know, the one he is expecting.”

“I know nothing of it,” replied the dwarf; “and you look to me uncommonly like a cheat.”

“Excuse me,” returned Peronnik, “such is by no means my profession; I am only a catcher and trainer of birds. But, for God’s sake, don’t keep me now; for his lordship, the magician, is expecting me this very moment; and has even lent me his own colt, as you see, that I may the sooner reach the castle.”

The Korigan saw, in fact, that Peronnik rode the magician’s young horse, and began to consider whether he might not really be speaking truth. Besides, the idiot had so simple an air, that it was not possible to suspect him of inventing such a story. However, he still felt mistrust; and asked what need the magician had of a bird-catcher?

“The greatest need, it seems,” said Peronnik; “for, according to his account, all that ripens, whether seed or fruit, in the garden at Kerglas, is just now eaten up by birds.”

“And what can you do to hinder them?” asked the dwarf.

Peronnik showed the little snare which he had manufactured, and declared that no bird would be able to escape it.

“That is just what I will make sure of,” said the Korigan. “My apple-tree is ravaged just as much by the blackbirds and thrushes. Set your snare; and if you can catch them, I will let you pass.”

To this Peronnik agreed; he fastened his colt to a bush, and going up to the apple-tree, fixed therein one end of the snare, calling to the Korigan to hold the other whilst he got the skewers ready. He did as the idiot requested; and Peronnik hastily drawing the running noose, the dwarf found himself caught like a bird.

He uttered a cry of rage, and struggled to get free; but the springe, having been well steeped in holy water, bade defiance to all his efforts.

The idiot had time enough to run to the tree, pluck an apple from it, and remount his colt, which continued its onward course.

And so they came out of the plain; and behold, there lay a thicket before them, formed of the very loveliest plants. There were to be seen roses of every hue, Spanish brooms, rose-coloured honeysuckles, and, towering above all, the mysterious laughing flower; but round about the thicket stalked a lion, with a mane of vipers, rolling his eyes, and with his teeth grinding like a couple of new mill-stones.

Peronnik stopped, and bowed over and over again; for he knew that in the presence of the powerful a hat is more serviceable in the hand than on the head. He wished all sorts of prosperities to the lion and his family; and requested to know if he was without mistake upon the road to Kerglas.

“And what are you going to do at Kerglas?” cried the ferocious beast with a terrible air.

“May it please your worship,” replied the idiot timidly, “I am in the service of a lady who is a great friend of Lord RogÉar, and she has sent him something as a present to make a lark-pasty of.”

“Larks!” repeated the lion, licking his moustache; “it is an age since I have tasted them. How many have you got?”

“This bagful, your lordship,” replied Peronnik, showing the cloth-bag which he had stuffed with feathers and birdlime.

And in order to verify his words, he began to counterfeit the warbling of larks.

This song aggravated the lion’s appetite.

“Let me see,” said he, drawing near; “show me your birds; I should like to know if they are large enough to be served up at our master’s table.”

“I desire nothing so much,” replied the idiot; “but if I open the bag, I am afraid they will fly away.”

“Half open it, just to let me peep in,” said the greedy monster.

This desire fulfilled Peronnik’s highest hopes; he offered the bag to the lion, who poked in his head to seize the larks, and found himself smothered in feathers and birdlime. The idiot hastily drew the strings of the bag tight round his neck, making the sign of the cross over the knot, to keep it inviolable; then, rushing to the laughing flower, he gathered it, and set off as fast as the colt could go.

But it was not long before he came to the dragons’ lake, which he must needs cross by swimming; and scarcely had he plunged in, when they came towards him from every side to devour him.

This time Peronnik troubled not himself to pull off his hat, but he began to throw out to them the beads of his rosary, as one would scatter black wheat to ducks; and at every bead swallowed one of the dragons turned over on its back and expired; so that he at length reached the opposite shore unharmed.

The valley guarded by the black man had now to be crossed. Peronnik soon perceived him, chained by one foot to the rock, and holding in his hand an iron bowl, which ever returned, of its own accord, so soon as it had struck the appointed mark. He had six eyes, ranged round his head, which generally took turns in keeping watch; but at this moment it so chanced that they were every one open. Peronnik, knowing that if seen he should be struck by the iron bowl before he had the opportunity of speaking a word, resolved to creep along the brushwood. And by this means, hiding himself carefully behind the bushes, he soon found himself within a few steps of the black man, who had just sat down, and closed two of his eyes in repose. Peronnik, guessing that he was sleepy, began to chant in a drowsy voice the beginning of the High Mass. The black man at first, taken by surprise, started, and raised his head; but, as the murmur took effect upon him, a third eye closed. Peronnik then went on to intone the Kyrie eleison, in the tone of one possessed by the sleepy demon.5 The black man closed a fourth eye, and half the fifth. Peronnik then began Vespers; but before he had reached the Magnificat, the black man slept soundly.

Then the youth, taking the colt by the bridle, led it softly over mossy places; and so, passing close by the slumbering guardian, he came into the valley of delights.

This was the most-to-be-dreaded place of all; for it was no longer a question of avoiding positive danger, but of fleeing from temptation. Peronnik called all the saints of Brittany to his aid.

The valley through which he was now passing bore every appearance of a garden richly filled with fruits, with flowers, and with fountains; but the fountains were of wines and delicious drinks, the flowers sang with voices as sweet as those of cherubim in Paradise, and the fruits came of their own accord and offered themselves to the hand. Then at every turning of the path Peronnik beheld huge tables, spread as for a king, could scent the tempting odour of pastry drawn fresh from the oven, and see the valets apparently expecting him; whilst further off were beautiful maidens coming to dance upon the turf, who called him by his name to come and lead the ball.

In vain the idiot made the sign of the cross, insensibly he slackened the pace of his colt, involuntarily he raised his face to snuff up the delicious odour of the smoking dishes, and to gaze more fixedly upon the lovely maidens; he would possibly have stopped altogether, and there would have been an end of him, if the recollection of the golden basin and the diamond lance had not all at once crossed his mind. Then he instantly began to blow his elder-whistle, that he might hear no more those soft appeals; to eat his bread well rubbed with rancid dripping, to deaden the odour of the dainty meats; and to stare fixedly on his horse’s ears, that the lovely dancers might no more attract his eyes.

And so he came to the end of the garden quite safely, and caught sight at last of Kerglas Castle. But the river of which he had been told still lay between it and him, and he knew that this river could only be forded in one place. Happily the colt was familiar with this ford, and prepared to enter at the right spot.

Then Peronnik looked around him in quest of the lady who was to be his guide to the castle; and soon perceived her seated on a rock, clad in black satin, and her countenance as yellow as a Moor’s.

The idiot pulled off his hat, and asked if it was her pleasure to cross the river.

“I expected thee for that very purpose,” replied the lady; “draw near, that I may seat myself behind thee.”

Peronnik approached, took her on his horse’s crupper, and began to cross the ford. He had almost reached the middle of it, when the lady said to him,

“Knowest thou who I am, poor innocent?”

“I beg your pardon,” replied Peronnik, “but from your dress I clearly see that you are a noble and powerful lady.”

“As to noble, I ought to be,” replied the lady, “for I can trace back my origin to the first sin; and powerful I certainly am, for all nations give way before me.”

“Then what is your name, may it please you, madam?” asked Peronnik.

“I am called the Plague,” replied the yellow woman.

The idiot made a spring as if he would have thrown himself from his horse into the water; but the Plague said to him,

“Rest easy, poor innocent, thou hast nothing to fear from me; on the contrary, I can be of service to thee.”

“Is it possible that you will be so benevolent, Madam Plague?” said Peronnik, taking his hat off, this time for good; “by the by, I now remember that it is you who are to teach me how to rid myself of the magician RogÉar.”

“The magician must die,” said the yellow lady.

“I should like nothing better,” replied Peronnik; “but he is immortal.”

“Listen, and try to understand,” said the Plague. “The apple-tree guarded by the Korigan is a slip from the tree of good and evil, set in the earthly Paradise by God Himself. Its fruit, like that which was eaten by Adam and Eve, renders immortals susceptible of death. Try, then, to induce the magician to taste the apple, and from that moment he need only be touched by me to sink in death.”

“I will try,” said Peronnik; “but even if I succeed, how can I obtain the golden basin and the diamond lance, since they lie hidden in a gloomy cave, which cannot be opened by any key yet forged?”

“The laughing flower will open every door,” replied the Plague, “and can illuminate the darkest night.”

As she spoke these words they reached the further bank of the river, and the idiot went onwards to the castle.

Now there was before the entrance-hall a huge canopy, like that which is carried over his lordship the Bishop of Vannes at the processions of the FÊte Dieu. Beneath this sat the giant, sheltered from the heat of the sun, his legs crossed, like a proprietor who has gathered in his harvest, and smoking a tobacco-pipe of virgin gold. On perceiving the colt, on which sat Peronnik and the lady clad in black satin, he lifted up his head, and cried in a voice which roared like thunder,

“Why this idiot is mounted on my three-months’ colt!”

“The very same, O greatest of all magicians,” replied Peronnik.

“And how did you get possession of him?” asked RogÉar.

“I repeated what your brother Bryak taught me,” replied the idiot. “On reaching the forest border I said,

and the little horse came at once.”

“Then you know my brother?” said the giant.

“As one knows his master,” replied the youth.

“And what has he sent you here for?”

“To bring you a present of two curiosities he has just received from the country of the Moors,—this apple of delight, and the female slave whom you see there. If you eat the first, you will always have a heart as much at rest as that of a poor man who has found a purse of a hundred crowns in his wooden shoe; and if you take the second into your service, you will have nothing left you to desire in the world.”

“Give me then the apple, and make the Moorish woman dismount,” replied RogÉar.

The idiot obeyed; but the instant the giant had set his teeth into the fruit, the yellow lady laid her hand upon him, and he fell to the ground like a bullock in the slaughter-house.

Then Peronnik entered the palace, holding the laughing flower in his hand. He traversed more than fifty halls, one after the other, and came at length before the cavern with the silver door. This opened of its own accord before the flower, which also gave the idiot sufficient light to find the golden basin and the diamond lance.

But scarcely had he seized them when the earth shook under his feet; a terrible clap of thunder was heard; the palace disappeared; and Peronnik found himself once more in the midst of the forest, holding his two talismans, with which he set forward instantly to the court of the King of Brittany.

He only delayed long enough at Vannes to buy the richest costume he could find there, and the finest horse that was for sale in the diocese of White-Wheat.

Now when he came to Nantes, this town was besieged by the Franks, who had so mercilessly ravaged the surrounding country, that there were scarcely more trees left than would serve a single goat for forage; and more than that, famine was in the city; and those soldiers died of hunger whose wounds had spared their lives. And on the very day of Peronnik’s arrival, a trumpeter proclaimed aloud in every street that the King of Brittany would adopt that man as his heir who could deliver the city, and drive the enemy out of the country.

Hearing this promise, Peronnik said to the trumpeter,

“Proclaim no more, but lead me to the king; for I am able to do all he asks.”

“Thou!” said the herald, seeing him so young and small; “go on thy way, fine goldfinch;6 the king has now no time for taking little birds from cottage-roofs.”7

By way of reply, Peronnik touched the soldier with his lance; and that very instant he fell dead, to the infinite terror of the crowd who looked on, and would have fled away; but the idiot cried,

“You have just seen what I can do against my enemies; know now what is in my power for my friends.”

And having touched with his golden basin the dead man’s lips, he rose up instantly, restored to life.

The king being informed of this wonder, gave Peronnik command of all the soldiers he had left; and as with his diamond lance the idiot killed thousands of the Franks, and with his golden basin restored to life the Bretons who were slain, a very few days sufficed him for putting an end to the enemy’s army, and taking possession of all their camp contained.

He then proposed to conquer all the neighbouring countries, such as Anjou, Poitou, and Normandy, which cost him but very little trouble; and finally, when all were in obedience to the king, he declared his intention of setting out to deliver the Holy Land, and embarked from Nantes in a magnificent fleet, with the first nobility of the land.

On reaching Palestine, he performed great deeds of valour, compelled many Saracens to be baptised, and married a fair maiden, by whom he had many sons and daughters, to each of whom he gave wealth and lands. Some even say that, thanks to the golden basin, he and his sons are living still, and reign in this land; but others maintain that RogÉar’s brother, the magician Bryak, has succeeded in regaining possession of the two talismans, and that those who wish for them have only—to seek them out.