-Stories of the Past-

In Brittany there dwelt a baron who was marvellously esteemed of all his fellows. He was a stout knight, and comely, and of office and repute. Right private was he to the mind of his lord, and dear to the counsel of his neighbors. This baron was wedded to a very worthy dame, right fair to see, and sweet of semblance. All his love was set on her, and all her love was given to him. one only grief had she. For three whole days in every week her lord was absent from her side. She knew not where he went, nor on what errand. Neither did any of the house know the business which called him forth.

On a day when this lord had returned to his house, altogether joyous and content, the lady took him to task, sweetly, in this way, ‘Husband,’ said she, ‘and fair, sweet friend, I have a certain thing to pray of you. Right willingly would I receive this gift, but I fear to anger you in the asking. It is better for me to not have it, than to gain hard words.’

When the lord heard this matter, he took his wife in his arms, very tenderly, and kissed her.

‘Wife,’ he answered, ‘ask what you will. What would you have, for it is yours already?’

‘By my faith’ said the wife, ‘soon shall I be whole. Husband, right long and wearisome are the days that you spend away from your home. I rise from bed in the morning, sick at heart, I know not why So fearful am I, lest you do ought to your loss, that I may not find any comfort. Very quickly shall I die for reason of my dread. Tell me now, where you go, and on what business! How may the knowledge of one who loves so closely, bring you to harm?’

‘Wife,’ made answer the lord, ‘nothing but evil can come if I tell you this secret. For the mercy of God do not require it of me. If you but knew, you would withdraw yourself from my love, and I should be lost indeed.’

When the lady heard this, she persuaded that her baron sought to put her by with jesting words. Therefore she prayed and required him the more urgently, with tender looks and speech, till he was overborne, and told her all the story, hiding naught.

        ‘Wife, I become Bisclavarent. I enter the forest, and live on prey and roots, within the thickest of the wood.’

        After she had learned his secret, she prayed and entreated the more as to whether he ran in his clothing, or went spoiled of coverings.

        ‘Wife,’ said he, ‘I go naked as a beast.’

        ‘Tell me, for hope of grace, what you do with your clothing?’

        ‘Fair wife, that will I never. If I should lose my clothing, or even be marked as I quit my covering, then a Were-Wolf I must go for all days of my life. Never again should I become myself, save in that hour my clothing were given back to me. For this reason never will I show my lair.’

        ‘Husband,’ replied she to him, ‘I love you better than all the world. The less cause have you for doubting my faith, or hiding any title from me. What saviour is here of friendship? How have I made forfeit of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour? Open now your heart, and tell what is good to be known.’

        So at the end, outwearied and overborne by her importunity, he could no longer refrain, but told her all.

        ‘Wife,’ said he, ‘within this wood, a little from the path, there is a hidden way, and at the end thereof an ancient chapel, where oftentimes I have bewailed my lot. Nearby is a great hollow stone, concealed by a bush, and there is the secret place where I hide my raiment, till I would return to my home.’

        On hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of visage, because of her exceeding fear. She dared no longer to lie at his side, and turned over in her mind, this way and that, how best she could get her from him. Now there was a certain knight of those parts, who, for a great while, had sought and required her for her love. This knight had spent long years in her service, but little enough had he got thereby, not even fair words, or a promise. To him the dame wrote a letter, and meeting, made her purpose plain.

        ‘Fair friend,’ said she, ‘be happy. That which you have coveted so long a time, I will grant without delay. Never again will I deny your suit. My heart, and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now as love and dame.’

        Right sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, and pledged her faith and fealty. When she had confirmed him by an oath, then she told him all this business of her lord-- why he went, and what he became, and of his ravening within the wood. So she showed him of the chapel, and of the hollow stone, and of how to spoil the Were-Wolf of his vesture. Thus, by the kiss of his wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed. Often enough had he ravished his prey in desolate places, but from this journey he never returned. His kinsfolk and acquaintance came together to ask of his tidings, when this absence was noised abroad. On many a day, they searched the woodland, but none might find him, nor learn where Bisclavaret was gone.

        The dame was wedded to the knight who had cherished her for so long long a space. More than a year had passed since Bisclavarent disappeared. Then it chanced that the King would hunt in that self-same wood where the Were-Wolf lurked. When the hounds were unleashed they ran this way and that, and quickly came upon his scent. At the view the hunter winded on his horn, and the whole pack was on his heels. They followed him from morn to eve, till he was torn and bleeding, and was all adread lest he should pull him down. Now the king was very close to the quarry, and when Bisclavaret looked upon his master, he ran to him for pity and for grace. He took the stirrup within his paws, and fawned upon the prince’s foot. The King was very fearful at this sight, bu presently he called his courtiers to his aid.

        ‘Lords,’ cried he, ‘hasten hither, and see this marvellous thing. Here is a beast who has the sense of our own. He abases himself before his foe, and cries for mercy, although he cannot speak. Beat off the hounds, and let none do him harm. We will hunt no more to-day, but return to our own place, with this wonderful quarry we have taken.’

        The King returned him about, and rode to his hall, Bisclavarent following at his side. Very near his master the Were-Wolf went, like any dog, and had no care to seek again the wood. When the King brought him safely to his own castle, he rejoiced greatly, for the beast was fair and strong, no mightier had anyone seen. Much pride had the King in his marvelous beast. He held him so dear, that he bade all those who wished for his love, to cross the Wolf in naught, neither to strike him with a rod, but never to see that he was richly fed and kennelled warm. This commandment the Court observed willingly. So all the day the Wolf sported with the lords, and at night he lay within the chamber of the King. There was not one who did not make much of the beast, so frank was he and debonair. None had reason to do him wrong, for ever was he about his master, and for his part did evil to none. Every day were these two companion together, and all perceived that the King loved him as his friend.

        Hearken now to which chanced.

        The King held a high Court, and bade his great vassals and barons, and all the lords of his venery to the feast. Never was there a goodlier feast, nor one set forth with sweeter show and pomp. Amongst those who were bidden, came that same knight who had the wife of Bisclavaret for dame. He came to the castle, richly gowned, with fair company, but little he deemed whom he would find so near. Bisclavaret marked his foe the moment he stood within the hall. he ran towards him, and seized him with his fangs, in the King’s ver presence, and to the view of all. Doubtless he would have done him much mischief, had not the King called and chidden him, and threatened him with a rod. Once, and twice, again, the Wolf set upon the knight in the very light of day. All marvelled at his malice, for sweet and serviceable was the beast, and to that hour had shown hatred of none. With one consent the household deemed that this deed was done with full reason, and that the Wolf had suffered from the knight some bitter wrong. Right wary of his foe was the knight until the feast had ended, and all the barons had taken farewell of their lord, and departed, each to his own house. With these, amongst the very first, went that lord whom Bisclavaret so fiercely had assailed. Small was the wonder that he was glad to go.

        No long while after this adventure it came to pass that the courteous King would hunt in that forest where Bisclavaret was found. With the prince came his wolf, and a fair company. Now at nightfall the King abode within a certain lodge af that country, and this was known of that dame who before was the wife of Bisclavaret. In the morning the lady clothed her in her most dainty apparel, and hastened to the lodge, since she desired to speak to the King, and offer him a rich present. When the lady entered in the chamber, none could have restrained the fury of the Wolf. He became as a mad dog in his hatred and malice. Breaking from his bonds he sprang at her face, and bit the nose from her visage. From every side nobles ran to succour her. They beat off the wolf from his prey, and for a little would have cut him to pieces with their swords. But a certain wise counsellor was the King,

        ‘Sire, hearken now to me. This beast is always with you, and there is not one of us all who has not known him for long. He goes in and out amongst us, nor has molested any, neither done wrong or felony to any, save only to this dame, on only time we have seen. He has done evil to this dame, and to that knight, who is now the husband of her. Sire, she was once the wife of that lord who was so close and private to your heart, but who went, and none might find where he had gone. Now, therefore, put the dame in a sure place, and question her straitly so that she may tell--if perchance she knows thereof--for what reason this Beast holds her in such mortal hate. For many a strange deed has chanced, as well we know, in this marvellous land of Brittany.’

        The King listened to these words, and deemed the counsel good. He took hold of the knight, and put the dame in surety in another place. He caused them to be questioned right straitly, so that their torment was very grievous. At the end, partly because of her distress, and partly by reason of her exceeding fear, the dame’s lips were loosened, and she told her tale. She showed them of her betrayal of her lord, and how his raiment was stolen from the hollow stone. Since then she knew not where he went, nor what had befallen him, for he had never come again to his own land. Only, in her heart, well she deemed and was persuaded, that Bisclavaret was he.

        Straightaway the King demanded the vesture of his baron, whether this were to the wish of her, or whether it were against her wish. When the raiment was brought to him, he caused it to be spread before Bisclavaret, but the Wolf made as though he had not seen. Then that cunning and crafty counselor too the King apart, that he might give him a fresh rede.

        ‘Sire,’ said he, ‘you do not wisely, nor well, to set this raiment before Bisclavaret, in the sight of all. In shame and much tribulation must he lay aside the beast, and again become himself. Carry your wolf within your most secret chamber, and put his vestment therein. Then close the door upon him, and leave him alone for a space. So we shall see presently whether the ravening beast may indeed return to himself.

        The King carried the Wolf to his chamber, and shut the doors upon him fast. He delayed for a brief while, and taking two lords of his fellowship with him, came again to the room. Entering therein, all three, softly together, they found the knight sleeping in the King’s bed, like a little child. The King ras swiftly to the bed and taking his friend in his arms, embraced and kissed him fondly, above a hundred times. When his speech returned once more, he told him of his adventure. Then the King restored to his friend the fief that was stolen from him, and gave such rich gifts, moreover, as I cannot tell. As for the wife that had betrayed Bisclavaret, he bade her avoid his country, and chased her from the realm. So she went forth, she and her second lord together, to seek a more abiding city, and they were no more seen.

---

        Coalback looked over the drowsy form of the fillies, Sweetie Belle just barely keeping her eyes open. “Now tell me, young one. What was the reason behind the King’s kindness?”

        Sweetie Belle yawned, turning drowsily to look at him again. “Because Biscuit never hurt anypony, right?” She said sleepily, yawning gently again.

        “That is right.” Coalback said encouragingly, ignoring the mispronounced name. “Because Bisclavaret never caused harm to another, the king had reason to believe that he had goodness in him. You must never let fear cloud the truth. Bisclavaret never would have hurt a soul if not for the betrayal of his love, because her fear had clouded her reason.” He said gently, watching as Sweetie Belle finally shut her eyes.

        “That was a sad story, but it was nice too. Even if Biscrevet got hurt.” She said as sleep overtook her. Coalback watched her fall asleep, he watched the tiny fillies for a moment more. His eyes were sad, and his voice came out quietly so as not to wake them.

        “The young are so innocent. It will be a hard time ahead for all, but especially them.” His voice was sad, and heavy with hidden tears. He knew, that without his help, these ponies were doomed. Even if a part of him resented them for what they did, reason told him that they were not doing it out of hate, but fear.

        It had taken him days to realize that again. And he still had not gotten over what he had done to Rainbow Dash.

        He had struck her, and it had shaken him to his core. Every ounce of himself ached over that single action, every voice in his head screaming in grief. A tear slid down his face, landing lightly on the stone floor. He kept telling himself why it had been necessary, he had to make it apparent that she was not involved with him. He had even told himself that it was better if she thought he hated her, even though it was a lie.

He stood slowly, carefully removing himself from the sleeping fillies. He padded silently to the side of the chamber, pulling out a blanket he had snuck away from the Apple farm. He wrapped it around the piled together fillies carefully, making sure they would stay warm by the embers of the fire. He put a small log on the fire, leaving it to fuel the fire for the rest of the night.

He turned away, bunching up his legs before leaping to a platform above the room. It was a small supporting arch for the decrepit stairs, and it led out to a window that overlooked the forest. The glass had long ago broken and fallen away, leaving a chilled opening where the meager stream of smoke from the fire leaked away. Outside it was just enough room for him to sit, and he still had view of the fillies.

He sighed, spreading a stream of fog as he looked up toward the sky, and then toward Ponyville. He would have to fly up high some time, get a good bird’s eye  view of the incoming weather. That storm rolling over seemed too sudden, there had been no pressure change beforehand. That only meant that some powerful winds had blown it off. Perhaps it had floated upward on a lifting draft and into the jet stream.

He looked at the fillies again, a wave of sadness washing over him. They had families, friends. The entire town had that. But he did not. The only thing he had had was Rainbow Dash, and he had pushed her away. He took a deep breath and began to sing.

Even though he couldn’t see it, for his eyes were trained on the boiling clouds and the falling snow, Sweetie Belle had awoken again.

She looked up at him, hearing the sad words. The blanket slid from around her shoulders, making Scootaloo shiver at the sudden cool spot on her fur.

She could feel his grief as it left him and into the sky with his words. He sang loudly and strongly, the words of the song echoing through the increasing snowfall. Even though there were none, Sweetie Belle could almost hear the instruments behind the music, just barely.

A tear slid from her eye on it’s own accord, defying her wonder by expressing the sadness of that song.

And when Coalback had finished, his grief expended in that song, enough to let him go on, he simply stared out into the night. After a moment, he turned back to them, catching Sweetie Belle’s gaze with his green eyes.

He stood up, padding to the edge of the platform and silently dropping to the ground.

“Go back to sleep, Sweetie Belle. I’m okay, I promise.” He padded over to them, gently wrapping his midsection around them again. His warm side pressed against them, lulling Sweetie Belle back into slumber. “There is much to do tomorrow, and we will leave early so that the storm does not trap you out here.” He leaned his head down to meet hers, brushing against her gently.

He used his nose to push back down against his side, and she hugged him tightly. “That was a sad song, Coalback.” She whispered, her breath stirring the grey fr in front of her mouth.

“I know, and I’m sorry I woke you. You didn’t have to listen to that.” He said gently, resting his head on his paws.

Sweetie Belle leaned against his coat, burying her face in its warmth and softness. “Will you come back?” She asked, sleep already weighing her words.

“Maybe some day.” He whispered, watching her eyes slowly close.

“Those stallions have been so mean to everyone, wouldn’t you be able to stop them?” Sweetie yawned, closing her eyes fully. Coalback’s words were the last thing that she heard before she was swallowed by the darkness of sleep.

“I will stop them, this has gone on too long already. But I fear that they are not the true threat to the ponies.”