“A new harper!” quoth he. “That is good hearing. Let him be brought here to play to us at once.”
So Arasmon was led into the hall, and up to the golden thrones on which sat the King and Queen. A wonderful hall it was, made of gold and silver, and crystal and ivory, and the courtiers, dressed in blue and green and gold and diamonds, were a sight to see. Behind the throne were twelve young maids dressed in pure white, who sang most sweetly, and behind them were the musicians who accompanied them on every kind of instrument. Arasmon had never in his life seen such a splendid sight.
“Come here,” cried the King to him, “and let us hear you play.” And the singers ceased singing, and the musicians smiled scornfully, for they could not believe Arasmon’s music could equal theirs. For he looked to be in a most sorry plight. He had walked far, and the dust of the roads was on him. His clothes were worn threadbare, and stained and soiled, while his face was so thin and anxious and sad that it was pitiful to see; but his harp of pure shining gold was undulled, and untarnished. He began to play, and then all smiles ceased, and the women began to weep, and the men sat and stared at him in astonishment. When he had done the King started up, and throwing his arms about his neck, cried, “Stay with me. You shall be my chief musician. Never before have I heard playing like yours, and whatever you want I will give you.” But when he heard this, Arasmon knelt on one knee and said,
“My gracious lord, I cannot stay. I have lost my wife Chrysea. I must search all over the world till I find her. Ah! how beautiful she was, and how sweetly she sang; her singing was far sweeter than even the music of my harp.”
“Indeed!” cried the King. “Then I too would fain hear her. But stay with me, and I will send messengers all over the world to seek her far and near, and they will find her much sooner than you.”
So Arasmon stayed at the court, but he said that if Chrysea did not come soon he must go farther to seek her himself.
The King gave orders that he should be clad in the costliest clothes and have all he could want given to him, and after this he would hear no music but Arasmon’s playing, so all the other musicians were jealous, and wished he had never come to the palace. But the strangest thing was that no one but Arasmon could play upon his golden harp. All the King’s harpers tried, and the King himself tried also, but when they touched the strings there came from them a strange, melancholy wailing, and no one but Arasmon could bring out its beautiful notes.
But the courtiers and musicians grew more and more angry with Arasmon, till at last they hated him bitterly, and only wanted to do him some harm; for they said,
“Who is he, that our King should love and honour him before us? After all, it is not his playing which is so beautiful; it is chiefly the harp on which he plays, and if that were taken from him he would be no better than the rest of us;” and then they began to consult together as to how they should steal his harp.
One hot summer evening Arasmon went into the palace gardens, and sat down to rest beneath a large beech-tree, when a little way off he saw two courtiers talking together, and heard that they spoke of him, though they did not see him or know he was there.
“The poor man is mad,” said one; “of that there is little doubt, but, mad or not, as long as he plays on his harp the King will not listen to anyone else.”
“The only way is to take the harp from him,” said the other. “But it is hard to know how to get it away, for he will never let it go out of his hands.”
“We must take it from him when he is sleeping,” said the first.
“Certainly,” said the other; and then Arasmon heard them settle how and when they would go to his room at night to steal his harp.
He sat still till they were gone, and then he rose, and grasping it tenderly, turned from the palace and walked away through the garden gates.
“I have lost Chrysea,” he said, “and now they would take from me even my harp, the only thing I have to love in all this world, but I will go away, far off where they will never find me,” and when he was out of sight, he ran with all his might, and never rested till he was far away on a lonely hill, with no one near to see him.
The stars were beginning to shine though it was not yet dark. Arasmon sat on a stone and looked at the country far and near. He could hear the sheep bells tinkling around him, and far, far off in the distance he could see the city and the palace he had left.
Then he began to play on his harp, and as he played the sheep stopped browsing and drew near him to listen.
The stars grew brighter and the evening darker, and he saw a woman carrying a child coming up the hill.
She looked pale and tired, but her face was very happy as she sat down not far from Arasmon and listened to his playing, whilst she looked eagerly across the hill as if she watched for someone who was coming. Presently she turned and said, “How beautifully you play; I never heard music like it before, but what makes you look so sad? Are you unhappy?”
“Yes,” said Arasmon, “I am very miserable. I lost my wife Chrysea many years ago, and now
