 One day, when Sir Caledor was away hunting in the woods, a lawless tribe of brigands invaded the country where the shepherds dwelt, ravaged their houses, murdered the shepherds, and drove away their flocks. Old Melaby and all his household were led away captive, and with them also was taken Corridan. In the dead of night, so that no one might see or rescue them, the robbers carried their prey to their dwelling. This was on a little island, so covered with dense brushwood that there seemed no way for people to pass in or out, or to find footing in the overgrown grass, for the way it was made underground, through hollow caves that no man could discover, because of the thick shrubs which hid them from sight. Through all the inner parts of their dwelling, the darkness of night daily hovered. They were not lighted by any window or opening in the roof, but with continual candle-light, which made a dim and uncertain gloom. Hither the brigands brought their prisoners, and kept them under constant watch and ward, meaning, as soon as they conveniently could, to sell them as slaves to merchants who would either keep them in bondage or sell them again. But the captain of the brigands was enchanted with the loveliness of Pastorella, and determined to keep her for himself. When therefore the other prisoners were brought forward to be sold, so that the money received for them might be divided equally among the band, he held back Pastorella, saying that she was his prize alone, with whom no one else had anything to do. Besides he added she was now so weak and waned through illness that she was worth nothing as merchandise, and then he showed her to them to prove how pale and ill she was. The sight of her wondrous beauty, though now worn and faded, and only to be dimly seen by candle-light, so amazed at the eyes of the merchants that they utterly refused to buy any of the other prisoners without her, and offered to pay large sums of gold. Then the captain bade them be silent. He refused to sell the maiden. They could take the rest if they would, this one he would keep for himself. Some of the other chief robbers boldly forbade him to do this injury, for the maiden, much as it grieved him, should be sold with the rest of the captives in order to increase their price. The captain again refused angrily, and drawing his sword declared that if anyone dared to lay a hand on her he should dearly rue it, and his death should pay the price. From words they rapidly fell to blows, and the candle being soon quenched in the conflict the fight raged furiously in the dark. But first of all they killed the captives, lest they should join against the weaker side or rise against the remnant. Old Meloby and his aged wife were slain, and many others with them, but Corridan, escaping craftily, crept out of doors, hidden in the darkness, and fled away as fast as he could. Unhappy Pastorella was defended all the time by the captain of the brigands, who, more careful of her safety than of his own, kept his target always stretched over her. At length he was slain, yet, even in his fall, continued with his extended arms to shelter Pastorella, who, wounded with the same stroke, fell to the ground with him. With the death of the captain the fray ceased, and the brigands lighting fresh candles, made search to see who was slain, friends and foes. There they found their captain cruelly killed, and in his arms the dying maiden. But seeing that life still lingered, they busily applied all their skill to call her soul back to its home, and so well did they work that at last they restored her to life. This done they placed her in charge of one of the brigands, who kept her in harsh and wretched thralldom, scarcely allowing her food or rest, or suffering her wounds to be properly tended. Mr. Calador, meanwhile, having returned from the wood, and found the cottage to spoil, and his love reft away, waxed almost mad with grief and rage. To add to his anguish there was not a soul of whom he could inquire anything. He sought the woods, but he could see no man. He sought the plains, but could hear no tidings. The woods only repeated vain echoes. The plains were waste and empty. Where once the shepherds played their pipes and fed a hundred flocks, there now he found not one. At last, as he roamed up and down, he saw a man coming towards him, who seemed to be some wretched peasant in ragged clothes, with hair standing on end, as if he fled from some recent danger which still followed close behind. As he came near, the night saw it was Corridan. Running up to him, Mr. Calador asked, where were the rest, where was Pastorella? Bursting into tears, Corridan told how they had been seized by the brigands and carried to their den. He described how they were to have been sold as slaves and the quarrel that had arisen over Pastorella. He told how the captain had tried to defend her. But what could he do alone against them all? he added. He could not save her. In the end she must surely die. I only escaped in the uproar and confusion, and it were better to be dead with them than to see all this place where we dwelt together in joy, desolate and waste. Calador was at first almost distracted at hearing this dreadful news, but presently recovering himself he began to cast about in his mind how he might rescue Pastorella if she were still alive, or how he should revenge her death, or if he were too weak to avenge her then at least he could die with her. Therefore he prayed Corridan, since he knew well the readyest way into the Thieves Den that he would conduct him there. Corridan was still so frightened that at first he refused, but at last he was persuaded by Sir Calador's entreaties and promises of reward. So forth they went together, both clad in Shepherd's dress and carrying their crooks, but Calador had secretly armed himself underneath. Then as they approached the place they saw upon a hill, not far away, some flocks of sheep and some shepherds, to whom they both agreed to take their way, hoping to learn some news. There they found, which they did not expect, the self-same flocks which the Bergens had stolen away, with several of the Thieves left to look after them. Corridan knew quite well his own sheep, and seeing them began to weep for pity, but when he saw the Thieves his heart failed him, although they were all asleep. He wanted Calador to kill them as they slept and drive away the sheep, but the night had another purpose in view. Waking the Bergens he sat down beside them and began to chat of different things, hoping to find out from them whether Pastorella were alive or slain. The Thieves in their turn began to question Sir Calador and Corridan, asking what sort of men they were and whence they came, to which they replied that they were poor herdsmen who had fled from their masters, and now sought hire elsewhere. The Thieves, delighted to hear this, offered to pay them well if they would tend their flocks, for they themselves were bad herdsmen, they said, not accustomed to watching cattle or pasture sheep, but to foray the land or scour the sea. Sir Calador and Corridan agreed to keep the flocks, so there they stayed all day as long as the light lasted. When it grew towards night the robbers took to their dens, which they soon got to know quite well, and where they sought out all the secret passages, there they found to their joy and surprise that Pastorella still lived, watching their opportunity one dead of night, when all the Thieves were sound asleep after a recent foray. Sir Calador made his way to the captain's den. When he came to the cave he found it fast, but he assailed the door with irresistible might and burst the lock. One of the robbers, awaking at the noise, ran to the entrance, but the bold night easily slew him. Pastorella in the meanwhile was almost dead with fright, believing it to be another uproar such as she had lately seen. But when Sir Calador came in and began to call for her, knowing his voice she suddenly revived and her soul was filled with rapture. No less rejoiced Calador when he found her, and like one distracted he caught her in his arms and kissed her a thousand times. By this time the hue and cry was raised and all the brigands came crowding to the cave, but Sir Calador stood in the entry and slew each man as he advanced, so that the passage was lined with dead bodies. Then, when no more could get near him, he rested till the morning, when he made his way into the open light. Near all the rest of the brigands were ready waiting for him, and fiercely assailing him fell on him with all their might. But Calador, with his raging brand, divided their thickest troops and scattered them wide. Like a lion among a herd of deer, so did he fly among them, hewing and slaying all that came near, so that none dared face the danger, but fled from his wrath to hide from death in their caves. Then returning to his dear lady he brought her forth into the joyous light, and did everything he could to make her forget the troubles through which she had passed. From the thieves' den he took all the spoils and treasures of which they had robbed other people, and all the flocks which they had stolen from Mellaby he restored to Corridan. The beast with a thousand tongues. Sir Calador, having rescued Pastorella from the brigands' den, took her to the castle of Belgard, where the good Sir Belamore was lured, and there a strange thing happened. Years before Sir Belamore had secretly married a beautiful maiden called Clarabel, the daughter of a rich and powerful man known by the name of the Lord of many islands. Her father had hoped, because of his great wealth, that his daughter would marry the prince of a neighbouring country, and when he found that she loved Sir Belamore, he was in such a rage that he threw them in two deep dungeons, forbidding them ever to see each other. When Clarabel was in prison, a little daughter was born to her. But, fearing lest her father should get hold of it, she entrusted it to her handmaid, Melissa, to have it brought up as a stranger's child. The trusty damsel carried it into an empty field, and having kissed and wept over it, placed it on the ground, and hit herself behind some bushes near to see what mortal would take pity on the poor little infant. At length the shepherd, who kept his fleecy flocks on the plains around, led by the infant's cry, came to the place, and when he found there the abandoned treasure, he took it up, and wrapping it in his mantle, bore it home to his honest wife, whoever afterwards brought it up as her own child. Clarabel and Belemore remained a long time in captivity, till at last the Lord of many islands died, and left them all his possessions. Then the tide of fortune turned, they were restored to freedom, and rejoiced in happiness together. They had lived for a long time in peace and love when Sir Calador brought Pastorella to the castle. Here they both received the heartiest welcome, for Sir Belemore was an old friend of Calador's, and loved him well, and Clarabel seeing how weak and wan Pastorella was after her long captivity, tended her with the greatest love and care. Now it happened that before the handmaiden parted with the infant, she noticed on its breast a little purple mark, like a rose unfolding its silken leaves. The same maiden Melissa was appointed to wait on Pastorella, and one morning when she was helping her to dress, she noticed on her chest the rosy mark which she remembered well on the little infant, Clarabel's daughter. Full of joy she ran in haste to her mistress, and told her that the beautiful lady was no other than the little child who had been born in prison. Then Clarabel ran quickly to the stranger maiden, and finding it was even as Melissa said, she clasped her in her arms and held her close, weeping softly and saying, and do you now live again, my daughter, and are you still alive whom long I mourned as dead? Then there was great rejoicing in the castle of Belgaard. Meanwhile Sir Calador was pursuing the quest of the blatant beast, seeking him in every place with unresting pain and toil, and following him by his destroying track, for wherever the monster went he left behind him ruin and devastation. At last in a narrow place Sir Calador overtook him, and fiercely assailing forced him to turn. Then the blatant beast ran at him with open mouth, huge and horrible. It was all set with a double row of iron teeth, and in it were a thousand tongues of every kind and quality. Some were of dogs that barked day and night. Some of cats that yalled. Some of bears that growled continually. Some of tigers that seemed to grin and snarl at all who passed by. But most of them were tongues of mortal men, who poured forth abuse, not caring where nor when, and among them were mingled here and there the tongues of serpents, with three forked stings that spat out poison at all who came within reach, speaking hateful things of good and bad alike, of high and low, not even sparing kings or kaisers, but either blotting them with infamy or biting them with their baneful teeth. But Calador, not in the least afraid of this horrid spectacle, met him with such impetuous might that he checked his violence and beat him back. Then the monster rearing up ramped upon him with his ravenous paws as if his cruel claws would have rent him. But the knight, being well on guard, cast his shield between, and putting forth all his strength, forced him to fall back, and when he was down he threw his shield on him and pinned him to the ground. He veined at the beast rage and roar, for the more he strove the more firmly the knight held him so that he was almost mad with spite. He grinned, he bit, he spat out venom, and acted like a horrible fiend. When the monster saw force was of no avail he began to use his hundred tongues, and reviled and railed at the knight with bitter terms of infamy, weaving in many a forged lie whose likes Ser Calador had never heard or thought of. Yet for all that he did not let the creature go, but held him so tight that he nearly choked him. At last when he found his strength failing and his rage lessening, Ser Calador took a strong muzzle of the stoutest iron, made with many a link with which he fastened up his mouth, shutting up therein his blasphemous tongue, so that he should never more defame gentle knight or wrong lovely lady, and to this he tied a great long chain with which he dragged him forth in spite of himself. The hideous beast chafed inwardly at these strange bonds which no one till then had dared to impose on him. Yet he dared not draw back, nor attempt to resist the power of the noble Calador, but trembled before him, and followed like a frightened dog. All through fairyland he followed him thus, as if he had learned obedience, so that all the people wherever he went, thronged out of the town to see Ser Calador lead the blatant beast in bondage, and seeing it were amazed at the sight. And all such people as he had formerly wronged rejoiced to see him a captive, and many wondered at the beast, but more wondered at the knight. Thus was this monster suppressed and tamed by the mastering might of the Dottie Calador, and so for a long time he remained. But at last, either by wicked fate or the fault of men, he broke his iron chain and got again at liberty into the world, and here he still ranges, barking and biting, sparing no one in his malice, and doing an infinite deal of mischief wherever he goes. And since the days of the good Ser Calador no man has ever been able to master him. End of Stories from the Fairy Queen by Mary MacLeod.