Asexual Fairy Tales by Elizabeth Hopkinson

Author:Elizabeth Hopkinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SilverWood Books
Published: 2019-08-28T11:05:46+00:00

At one time in the kingdom of Logres, birthplace of many noble knights, there dwelt a knight whose name was Girflet. He was both courteous and liberal (as a knight should be) but he was also sad and lonely, for there was no lady to whom he had given his heart and whose token he could wear when he went abroad.

It happened one day that Girflet had been badly wounded in a tournament. As he rode home, his wound became so painful that he needed to stop and rest. He had been riding close to a river, so he left his squire and his horse and began to remove his armour in order to bathe his wounded leg, hoping to ease the pain. As he began to wash, he saw a marvellous thing. A ship was sailing towards him. Its pure white sails were made of silk, and its ropes glinted as if spun with silver. At its prow was the figure of an ivory woman, exquisitely beautiful, with two whole sapphires for her eyes.

A noble knight in those times never refused an adventure, and so, filled with wonder, Girflet climbed aboard the ship. There was no one on the deck, which shone as if no foot had ever trod there. Girflet could hear nothing but the gentle lapping of the water and a slight creak of timbers. Going below, he was amazed to find a bed, laid with the most expensive covers, all in various hues of white, cream and ivory, with white lace curtains hanging from the posts. The top coverlet was embroidered all over with delicate cobwebs and snowflakes of the finest silver thread. Girflet was afraid to stay there, lest the blood from his wound should spoil the bed’s perfect whiteness, but seemingly against his will, a great weariness overcame him, and he dropped down, laying his head upon the lacy pillow.

When he woke, he found the ship had carried him to a place he had never seen before. Great willow trees bent down to embrace the water on each side, and the prow of the ship cut a path through hundreds of white lilies. By the bank of the river stood a palace, the like of which Girflet had scarcely imagined in his dreams. Its walls were made of the purest, smoothest marble and seemed to shine in the rays of the sun. Many tall turrets pointed to the heavens, and the breeze caught banners embroidered with the same cobweb and snowflake emblems that had covered him while he slept. He rubbed his eyes, but the palace remained.

Stepping ashore, he went towards the palace, expecting at any moment to be met by some servant or other, perhaps a guard or a labourer working the surrounding fields, but none appeared. Instead, the mighty gates swung open for him, and he went inside alone. Instantly, he jumped with surprise at the sight of a whole host of knights apparently standing guard all along the walls. But a moment’s thought told him this was just an illusion.

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