The Maid of the Golden Shoon

PART II.¹‘TALES OUR GRANDMOTHERS TOLD.’ | Whitby Gazette | Friday 11 May 1906 | British Newspaper Archive’. 2022. Britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk <https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/BL/0001103/19060511/089/0003?browse=true> [accessed 2 September 2022]

The failure of that knight, and the evident disgrace attached to that failure, was a sad blow to the villagers. They had hoped for, nay, expected, immediate salvation; but, when a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth, and a sixth knight appeared upon the scene, with no better result, when nothing but failure and disgrace rewarded their efforts, the hearts and hopes of the good folk of Ingleby began to fail, the more so when it was known for a fact that two other evil-faced hags had been seen to enter Black Meg’s cottage the last three nights towards midnight. So alarmed did the good folks become, after the discomforture of the sixth bold warrior, that the smith and several others set out with the intention of paying a visit to Winifreda’s bower, with the purpose of begging her to free them from Meg’s evil machinations, and restoring the lost bairns to their sorrowing parents, without waiting for the arrival —what in their hearts every one of them considered—such an impossible creation of a man as she demanded; but, as they approached her bower, they heard her gently singing;—

•••••••

” Within my bower six suits of mail,
As from me cast lie here.
Six broken lances strew the ground.
Six battered shields are likewise found.
Six broad swords ‘t doth appear.

•••••••

This day shall come on a jet-black steed,
With mane as white snow;
A knight who shall kiss my golden shoon,
Who will hie to my bower when there is no moon,
And no ill in his soul shall grow.
I’ll don his mail, he my maid shall be.
And my squire well I trow.
In my — and gown, in my hood and cape.

•••••••

One charm of mine, ‘gainst his knightly vow.

•••••••

On bended knee we will plight our troth,
By the stone which the giant threw,
And I, the maid of the Golden Shoon,
Will bid him fair, when there is no moon,
To my bower, and I know he’s true.”

•••••••

Taking this as a good omen, they retraced their steps. Events quickly transpired which proved to them that it was no idle song they had listened to. Even as they entered the village, on their return from the bower, they beheld a brave young knight seated upon a richly caparisoned jet-black charger, with snow-white mane. The maid, they discovered, had followed closely behind them; so it came about that they witnessed the meeting of these two. Quite sure were they that a slight blush deepened the colour on her lovely face, as these two drew near to each other. They were equally certain that a glad light shone from the eyes of the young knight as they rested upon Winifreda. That they were known to each other was made quite certain, for he addressed her by her name, and she him as “Harold.” Standing by the side of his noble charger, she placed one dainty foot upon his hand, and, next instant, with a light and fairy-like spring, she was seated upon his empty saddle ; and here again were the words of her song proved true, as the young warrior took both her feet in his hands and kissed her golden shoon.

That day was given over to rejoicing; feasting, and games, which were kept up until the shades of night began to fall. Then Winifreda retired to her bower to pray for Heaven’s blessing to fall upon her that night. Before she left the excited throng, she bade the smith lead Harold to the bower a little before the hour of midnight. The supreme moment of her life had come. She had just bidden to her bower the youth she had secretly, long and truly loved; one whom she knew sincerely loved her. He was shortly to undertake a task which only the really pure in heart dare venture upon with any hope of success. She was quite aware, if she decided, that she might take his hand and leave the bower without subjecting him to so severe a trial. It only required her to say, “this thing shall not be. Why should I put the chance of earthly happiness to so outrageous a test? It only needs that I should hint such a thing, and we two may live happily as man and wife. But —.” Something seemed to whisper, “But what ? What would happen if I did so decide?” Why, it meant the good folk would be left powerless in the clutches three wicked hell-hags.

Well did Winifreda know that these same three evil-minded witches would that night do everything in their power—and their power for evil was terrible and mighty—to ruin the man she loved. Something told her that every temptation they could devise and subject her lover to would be that night before him in its most fascinating and seductive form. She knew, intuitively, that he would tempted greatly in excess of all the others put together, because his object life had always been to do right, theirs to compass evil. She had known before the others had entered her bower that they had perjured themselves. She knew they imagined her —

“Fancy free, and light o’ love.“

But no feeling or thought of fear for an instant entered her breast; she was guarded a power they kenned not of, and altogether beyond their evil thoughts and schemes. Thus, it was not for herself she now feared, but because of the man she loved. What if the wicked machinations of the trio should succeed whilst Harold was in her presence? What if, by magic charm, they caused but one unholy thought for an instant to grow within his heart? Why, he would be lost to her for ever. For just one brief instant, the good resolutions warring so fiercely within her gentle breast almost yielded to a selfish impulse, but she bade the thought begone, as something born of the Evil One. and unworthy of either of them. “Perish the thought!” she cried, “if Harold be not true to his mother’s teaching and precepts, he is unworthy to claim me as his bride. If it be I am called upon to sacrifice my own happiness in this life, for the happiness of others, I say, so let it be.” As this resolution was come to, she heard voices of those who were conducting young Harold to her bower. As the guides returned homeward, they noticed a light shining from the smithy door, and a voice bade them enter. They then learnt, to their dismay, how one of the villagers had seen the two strange dames—concerning whom they had no doubt they were witches, and acting in league with Black Meg—enter her cottage but hour ago, carrying with them certain strange things of evil import. So great had been the fear aroused in their breasts on making this discovery, that several of the villagers had hastened with this news to old Robby, so that they might learn from him what had best be done. These brought back word that three cast horse shoes had to be fastened to a string, from each other distant a short arrow’s flight from a child’s bow. The string had to be sufficiently long to reach quite round Meg’s cottage, the two ends being securely tied in a hard knot. This, having been successfully accomplished, would prevent anyone entering or leaving the cottage, until the string was severed by the sword of Harold. Whilst the villager were thus making ready for the imprisonment of the evil trio, the young knight, as honourable as of noble birth, was deftly fulfilling his double part of maid and squire to his lady love; their every movement, by magic art, was being keenly watched and commented upon the three hags in Meg’s cottage.

Standing about small round table, the trio were intently peering into a brazen bowl three parts full of some dark liquid. Upon its bright surface they beheld distinctly pictured every action and movement of Harold and Winifreda then busily engaged in the bower.

“Now! now!” cried one of the hags, a fiendish look shining in her eyes, and lighting up the wickedness stamped upon her evil face. “Now! now! is our chance!” almost shrieked the other, so excited had they grown during the last few moments. “Now, Meg, do our bidding, blind his soul with her unadorned loveliness. Quick, Meg! tempt him beyond the endurance of an angel. Toss the powder upon the fire. He will fall. Curse him; curse him ; curse him.” As the hags, in turn, repeated the two words. Meg cast a powder upon the fire, which not only filled Meg’s kitchen with a blaze of light, but instantly lighted up Winifreda’s bower, with the light of the noonday’s sun.

Such a peal of exultant demoniacal laughter burst from the trio as they thus succeeded in thwarting every effort which had been made, all the care which had been expended in making the bower secure from daylight or moonlight being of no avail, and so wild and unearthly was that fiendish peal, that those without shuddered as they hoard it. But their exultation lasted only one short moment. An instant later, its tone changed into a savage howl of passionate anger, as each perceived young Harold was standing with eyes tightly closed. In that instant they all felt how utterly they had bean defeated, how little they understood what real nobleness of character and true love was capable of performing. They knew how utter and complete had been their failure, when they heard the young knight say, “Winifreda, find your sash and bind my eyes. Hades and all the wicked witches on earth shall not put us to shame again by so foul a trick. Forget not that I am here to guard your honour, not even In thought to sully it.”

“O, Harold!” cried Winifreda, “I could almost pray for a blessing to fall upon those would thus have wrought your destruction, and my eternal sorrow. Now, I know that thou art worthy to be my lord and husband.” Frantic with growing despair, the hags strove by every evil device they could invent to bring ruin upon those two pure young lovers, but success failed to crown their efforts. At day-break, nearly at the whole village had foregathered at the entrance to to the wood, and from every throat came forth a joyous cheer the moment they beheld Winifreda, mounted upon Harold’s charger, riding towards them. At the first glance, they hardly recognised her, she having donned her lover’s armour, which, by some magic charm, had shrunk, as Harold had tightened each buckle, until it fit with perfect ease and grace her lovely form, with greater charm than it would have done had it been fashioned for her by the King’s armourer himself. Casting her eye over those assembled, she seemed to miss something. Calling the smith to her side, and mentioning the names of several villagers, she asked him if they were amongst those present.

“I heard them say they did not intend to join us,” he replied.

“Knowest thou their reason for keeping thus apart?” Winifreda demanded.

“I beg my lady not to press for an answer,” said the smith, with something which spoke of trouble in his voice.

“As thou lovest truth, good smith, hide nothing from me,” said she, laying a kindly hand upon his shoulder.

“They have spoken lightly of thy honour in connection with these several meetings,” confessed the smith, seeing he must tell the whole truth.

“Didst thou hear them?”

“I did.”

“And what didst thou?”

“One only was a man, and him I struck to the ground. The others being but weak women, I did but cry shame upon them, and, spitting their breath from my mouth, I left them.”

“This matter shall be seen to, presently; we have other, and more serious, work to do now. Here comes Harold and my six recreant knights, who have had to humble themselves before him, and dress him in their own confiscated armour,” pointing, as she spoke, in the direction of her bower.

“Hearken ye, false knights,” she cried, as Harold marched them in front of her. “Ye have each of you had returned to you your swords, ye are now to be led in front of Black Meg’s cottage, and bear ye well in mind what I now say. Should any of you attempt to escape by crossing the mark I make upon the ground, instant death will be your fate. So each of you fight this day, ordained ye shall die, as a just punishment for the sin ye would have committed, shall be as glorious as your past deeds have been stained with dishonour. To some extent the chance is now given you to regain your lost honour. So quit yourselves as brave men should.”

Turning her steed about, she led the way to Meg’s cottage. Not a soul spake; all felt a crisis was about to happen such as had never been before.

Winifreda, on approaching the cottage, bade the villagers keep their distance. Harold led the six knights within a few yards of the door, up to which Winifreda boldly rode. Quickly dismounting, she struck the wall of the cottage on the left-hand side of the door, and, with the point of the sword, scratched upon the gravel a wide semi-circle fully thirty yards in diameter, bringing the same to a finish on the right hand of the door. this task accomplished, she bade Harold free the prisoners from their fetters, and take his stand beyond the charmed line she had made upon the gravel. The instant Harold stepped over the line, Winifreda severed the charmed string which had been drawn round the cottage, holding its inmates prisoners, crying aloud in a commanding voice, “Come forth, ye beldames, and you, sir knights, be ready, and, as far as may be, retrieve your tarnished honour.” Again she cried to those within, “D’ye hear me, ye vile hags. Come forth, ye workers of evil, and receive your deserts.”

But the door opened not; neither was the least sign forth coming that any living creature was within. “Smith,” called Winifreda, “bring hither thy hammer.”

The forge being near at hand, the smith soon returned, swinging his huge hammer as if it had been but a toy.

“Tie about thy apron string a length of the charmed string I have just severed, and then break down yonder door.”

The first blow the smith gave smashed the door to atoms, and shook the cottage to its very foundations. Still their was neither sound nor sign of life. But when a lighted winding sheet, wrapped about a bunch about a bunch of churchyard yarrow, was thrown within the open doorway, the effect was instantaneous. With loud roars, which shook the ground, and struck every villager dumb and spell-bound with fear, there came crawling forth three fire-spitting dragons. Thrice in size did they swell, the moment they passed through the doorway.

Looking first at the dragons, and then at each other, the knights cried, “Two to each dragon !” and the fight began, the like of which the oldest amongst those standing without the charmed circle had only heard spoken of.

Whilst blood and slime spattered the ground, stenching fumes, and deadly flames were emitted from the terrible jaws of the fierce dragons, whilst angry and agonised cries filled the air, With all their might, the knights fought, fought as they had never done before. Dreadful was it to witness, the fury of the dragons, the lashing of their tails, the snapping of their savage jaws, their twisting and writhing. Terrible was it to hear their angry roars of pain, some sword up to the hilt reached some vital part. Then, it was that from their nostrils shot forth deadly poisonous fumes and flames. Loud were the cries of pain from the combatants, and still fiercely waged the battle, a sight almost too fearful for many to witness; but they were spellbound, and could not stir or speak.

At last, one dragon, having slain its two assailants, was about to lend its aid to one of the others. During all this time Harold had remained at Winifreda’s side. Neither had uttered a word, but the instant the two knights were slain, and before it turned to help either of the others, Winifreda, with flashing sword, boldly stepped within the charmed circle, and, with one brave thrust, drove her sword through the dragon’s eye, deep within its brain. As she drew it forth again, she perceived Harold had followed her. Although unarmed, he was then standing by her side.

“Back! back! Harold!” she cried, “ere some of this slime bespatter you. Did but one drop fall upon your flesh, it would leave an open sore for life.” Back they both leaped safe and sound over the magic line. But only for a few moments did they stand thus secure from harm, for a second dragon gamed the victory over its foes, and again Winifreda entered the zone of danger, closely attended by Harold, unarmed as he was. Winifreda, with a dexterity which was truly marvellous, again drove Harold’s sword deep into the brain of the loathsome creature, and again they both safely returned beyond all harm.

For a few moments, everyone perceived that the damsel was in deep thought. At last, she turned to the young knight, saying, as she returned his sword to him, “To thee, my brave, true knight, falls the hardest task of all.” Then, turning her eyes Heavenward, she cried from the depths of her soul, “Merciful Father, give strength to his arm, guide his blade, and give him back to me without scratch or slime wound.” Then, turning to Harold, in trembling voice, she said. “When the last knight falls, spring within the ring, and smite off the dragon’s head at one blow. Strike at the narrow part of its neck, and may the God of battle guide thy blade.” A few moments later, she whispered—for anxiety had almost rendered her speechless—”Now is thy chance. Go, and may the God of battle guide thy hand.” As she uttered the last word, the last knight fell, and Harold sprang within the charmed circle. Boldly, but with great caution, he approached the evil-looking reptile. Open-mouthed and blood-stained it stood, swaying its huge body from side to side, and darting its terrible-looking head hither and thither, with bewildering activity.

Up to now, Widifreda had remained outwardly calm and unmoved, but now, when the man she so truly loved was in danger, she stood filled with fear. At that moment, all her courage seemed to forsake her. Her gentle breast rose and fell, torn with grievous agitation. At last, Winifreda was all the woman. In armour she stood, a trembling maid, wringing her bands in very anguish lest her brave knight, her lover, should fail and fall.

Reading something of the agony she was passing though, the smith addressed her. Said he, “Fair maid, I beg that I may find favour at this moment in your eyes. I have never, to my knowledge, wilfully brought a blush of shame to the cheek of either wife or maid. I have been dutiful to my parents, and, although I be not of noble birth, may I not gain your sanction to help yonder knight to overcome yon evil monster?”

“Thou are more than worthy, good smith. True nobleness is not gotten by birth: it cometh from the heart. Go, then! The offer of thy strong arm is a comfort to me, and may prove a very present help to my brave knight. Go!”

And well was it that Winifreda so decided, for the second dragon had not been killed outright, and, a last dying effort to obtain revenge, it slid its head along the ground, being too weak to raise it. Its intention was quite plain to them all. It meant seizing Harold by the heel, and, did it succeed in drawing blood, her brave knight must surely die. Those standing without the mark saw what was about to happen. They would have cried in alarm, but their throats were so dry and parched that not one amongst them could utter a word. Winifreda stood speechless. So stricken with fear had she become that she could not even make a sign, and all while she and they watched that deadly head slide, inch by inch, near to Harold heel, whilst he stood watching every movement of the swaying head before him, eager to strike it off, the instant a favourable opportunity presented itself. Would the smith notice that stealthy sliding head? They asked themselves this question over and over again, as they watched, with an intensity almost beyond endurance. At last, they heard him shout, and, oh, what a relief it was. Once again they breathed freely, as they heard him exclaim, “By the strength of my ancestor’s arm, who threw Thirkell’s anvil through his smithy window, I will smite thee thou bell-bird. I will give thee such a blow as shell scatter thy patterbox²PATTER — to mutter..” Even as he uttered the threat his huge hammer circled in the air. One brief instant it was poised there, and then his powerful muscles, which stood out almost like iron ropes, seemed to quiver, and down it came, true to its mark, upon the head the huge monster, smashing head, jaws, and teeth to fragments. So terrific was the blow that the hammer head sank deep into the ground, and the shock shook the village from end to end. The dragon Harold was so cautiously watching, thus quite thrown off its guard, turned its head at the fall of the smith’s hammer. Harold seized the chance, and, with one swift, sure stroke, smote off its head.

“Come back! come back! quick! both of you,” cried Winifreda. In obedience to her call, they both sprang beyond the magic circle. The moment they were both safely over, the earth began to heave, gradually rising as if lifted upon the back of some monster beast beneath. Higher and yet higher it rose; then, with a crack, the suddenness of which startled everyone, the cottage tumbled to pieces, and the earth fell back, for ever burying all that was evil.

“Now then, you mothers and fathers, waste not an instant. Hurry away to the belfry, and see what joy awaits you there,” cried Winifreda, her own lovely face beaming with gladness.

And, oh, what a joyous shout arose a few moments later. With the wild acclamations, it was a very tumult of frenzied delight with the cheering, laughing, crying, altogether happy crowd returned from the belfry of the old church, with every lost bairn clasped tighly to its mother’s breast. Words fail to painr such a scene of intense joy.

When something like order and reason had been restored. Winifreda said, and all was silence the instant she raised her hand, “There is yet one measure of justice left for us to dispense. Bring hither all those who were such cowards as to attack and defame my good name behind my back.”

When these evil-speaking villagers were presently brought before her, the maiden ‘turned to those who had witnessed the fight. “These old women have, without the smallest speck of proof for so doing, seen fit to accuse me of being immoral. Now, here, before you all, they shall be judged out of their own mouths. Harold, take this magic ring, and touch the lips of these back-biters with it. They will then be compelled to confess, here, before you all, every sin which they have committed since last Christmas Day. We shall soon hear if your own lives are pure, if you are fit and proper persons, with your evil tongues, to ruin the good name of any maiden. ”

No sooner did Harold touch their lips with the magic ring than their lips were opened, and their tongues were loosed, and they confessed to their shame publicly, and their evil deeds. Oh, how their cheeks did burn as they listened to themselves publishing to their neighbours the committal of those very deeds which they had always so cleverly condemned in others! When they had made an end to their own confession, and for ever disgraced themselves, Winifreda bade them leave the company and hide themselves from the sight of all honest people, least for that day, adding, in conclusion, “Never forget, my friends, that those who suspect evil usually indulge that in secret which they would publicly punish in others when detected. But now, let us end this day with sport and games for young and old.”

This ends the legend of The Maid of the Golden Shoon.

There still remain one or two points of interest which the reader may care to know. There is some ground for suspecting that the whole story, in its earliest form, was that of a ballad romance. The few lines herein given, with the addition of few others, were dictated from memory by Bessy Ellis to the Vicar or Curate-in-charge of either Lastingham or Cropton. There some little doubt. This was done about the year 1815. It is quite evident that, whoever took down Bessy’s dictation, altered the quaint speech of that lady into the every-day English as spoken by the writer. We have much to thank the rev. gentleman for, but, in so doing, he made a terrible and irreparable mistake. Some few years later, the MS.³Manuscript of these lines was lent to one Robert Cooper, mine host of the “Crown,” Hutton-in-the-Hole, who seems to have been bit of poet. Anyway, he was, at that time, writing, or the possession of the MS. prompted him to write, a Mell Act⁴A folk story, recited from memory, and performed at the mell supper., and, as many of Bessy’s lines as could work into his own production, he very readily availed himself of the chance, and worked them in. This Mell Act, when complete, comprised some six hundred lines. It was arranged for five characters, and entitled, “The Test of Honour.” It may be here mentioned that, throughout his composition, no difficulty existed in picking out the lines which had taken from the Ellis MS., his being so very inferior from every point. Either his MS. or a copy of the “Test of Honour” was given by Bessy to Mr. Scorer, and was enacted by him and his friends, at several Mell suppers in the dales⁵Mell-supper — the harvest-home supper “In Yorkshire, at carrying in of the last corn, the labourers and servants by way of triumph cry, Mel, Mel, and ’tis a proverbial question among them. When do you get mel? i.e. when do you bring harvest home.” Kennett, MS. Lansd. 1033. A Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words – obsolete phrases, proverbs, and ancient customs, from the fourteenth century, by James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps, Vol. 2 1852. But when, after many years, this MS. was lent to the writer, it had for so long been considered of little value that many of the lines were quite undecipherable, pictures having been pasted on many of the leaves, others being badly torn, and many being gone altogether, and almost everywhere were to be found the marks of undoubted genius in possession of a penny box of water-colours. With such materials as have been obtainable, the writer has put together the story of “The Maid of the Golden Shoon.” May some of the readers of these columns consider it worthy place in their scrap-books. This, the writer hopes, and would add, “lt is worth preserving.”

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  ‘TALES OUR GRANDMOTHERS TOLD.’ | Whitby Gazette | Friday 11 May 1906 | British Newspaper Archive’. 2022. Britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk <https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/BL/0001103/19060511/089/0003?browse=true> [accessed 2 September 2022]
• 2
  PATTER — to mutter.
• 3
  Manuscript
• 4
  A folk story, recited from memory, and performed at the mell supper.
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  Mell-supper — the harvest-home supper “In Yorkshire, at carrying in of the last corn, the labourers and servants by way of triumph cry, Mel, Mel, and ’tis a proverbial question among them. When do you get mel? i.e. when do you bring harvest home.” Kennett, MS. Lansd. 1033. A Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words – obsolete phrases, proverbs, and ancient customs, from the fourteenth century, by James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps, Vol. 2 1852