To his camp came rumour of the strange monster that was
devastating his father's lands, and down to the coast he hastened with
his men, a great home-sickness dragging at his heart--home-sickness, and
a terror that all was not well with Margaret. Some rough, brown-faced
mariners, whose boat had not long before nearly suffered wreck on the
rocks of the Northumbrian coast, were able to tell the Prince that
rumour spoke truth, and that a laidley worm was laying waste his
father's kingdom. Of the Princess they could give no tidings, but the
Prince needed no words from them to tell him that all was not well.
"We have no time now here to waste,
Hence quickly let us sail:
My only sister Margaret
Something, I fear, doth ail."
And so, with haste, they built a ship, a ship for a Prince of Faery, for
its masts were made of the rowan tree, against which no evil witchcraft
could prevail, and its sails were of fluttering silk. With fair winds
and kindly waves the Prince and his men soon sped across the sea, and
gladly they saw again the square towers of the castle King Ida had
built, proudly looking down on the fields of restless water that only
the bravest of the King's husbandmen durst venture to plough. From her
turret window the Queen watched the sails of the gallant ship gleaming
in the sun, and knew full well that Prince Wynd was nearly home again.
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