There is a difference between this world and the world of Faery, but it is
not immediately perceptible. Everything that is here is there, but the
things that are there are better than those that are here. All things that
are bright are there brighter. There is more gold in the sun and more
silver in the moon of that land. There is more scent in the flowers, more
savour in the fruit. There is more comeliness in the men and more
tenderness in the women. Everything in Faery is better by this one
wonderful degree, and it is by this betterness you will know that you are
there if you should ever happen to get there.
Mongan and his companions stepped from the world of storm into sunshine
and a scented world. The instant they stepped they stood, bewildered,
looking at each other silently, questioningly, and then with one accord
they turned to look back whence they had come.
There was no storm behind them. The sunlight drowsed there as it did in
front, a peaceful flooding of living gold. They saw the shapes of the
country to which their eyes were accustomed, and recognised the well-known
landmarks, but it seemed that the distant hills were a trifle higher, and
the grass which clothed them and stretched between was greener, was more
velvety: that the trees were better clothed and had more of peace as they
hung over the quiet ground.
But Mongan knew what had happened, and he smiled with glee as he watched
his astonished companions, and he sniffed that balmy air as one whose
nostrils remembered it.
“You had better come with me,” he said.
“Where are we?” his wife asked. “Why, we are here,” cried Mongan; “where
else should we be?”
He set off then, and the others followed, staring about them cautiously,
and each man keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword.
“Are we in Faery?” the Flame Lady asked.
“We are,” said Mongan.
When they had gone a little distance they came to a grove of ancient
trees. Mightily tail and well grown these trees were, and the trunk of
each could not have been spanned by ten broad men. As they went among
these quiet giants into the dappled obscurity and silence, their thoughts
became grave, and all the motions of their minds elevated as though they
must equal in greatness and dignity those ancient and glorious trees. When
they passed through the grove they saw a lovely house before them, built
of mellow wood and with a roof of bronze—it was like the dwelling of
a king, and over the windows of the Sunny Room there was a balcony. There
were ladies on this balcony, and when they saw the travellers approaching
they sent messengers to welcome them.
Mongan and his companions were then brought into the house, and all was
done for them that could be done for honoured guests. Everything within
the house was as excellent as all without, and it was inhabited by seven
men and seven women, and it was evident that Mongan and these people were
well acquainted.
In the evening a feast was prepared, and when they had eaten well there
was a banquet. There were seven vats of wine, and as Mongan loved wine he
was very happy, and he drank more on that occasion than any one had ever
noticed him to drink before.
It was while he was in this condition of glee and expansion that the Flame
Lady put her arms about his neck and begged he would tell her the story of
Duv Laca, and, being boisterous then and full of good spirits, he agreed
to her request, and he prepared to tell the tale.
The seven men and seven women of the Fairy Palace then took their places
about him in a half-circle; his own seven guards sat behind them; his
wife, the Flame Lady, sat by his side; and at the back of all Cairid, his
story-teller sat, listening with all his ears, and remembering every word
that was uttered.
