In the middle ages, the holy saint Willebrod spent his life in doing good among the Dutch and Belgian tribes. His relics rest in the church at Echternach, in Luxemburg.
When trouble of any sort came upon the country people, they looked to him for help and advice.
In a certain year, a plague came upon their cattle. The poor dumb creatures acted as if they had brain fever. They were giddy, and staggered about, going round and round, but seemed to be unable to go forward. So the fields could not be ploughed and the cows would not give milk. The babies cried, the land was threatened with barrenness, and the people feared starvation.
In their distress, they came before the tomb of the good bishop, and made a vow that, if the pestilence ceased, they would, every year, make a pilgrimage to the church in which he was buried.
Now the curious thing, about this pilgrimage, was the manner in which it was carried out. To some extent, the people imitated, in their dancing and gestures, the odd behavior of the cattle, during their brain disorder. It became the fashion to leap and stagger, as the smitten beasts had done. In times, however, the celebration took the form of a processional, with bands of music.
So, every year, the long line of thousands of people, old and young, rich and poor, strong and weak, sick and well, led by the musicians, and all singing as they went, started from the river bridge. They walked hand in hand, and four abreast, and this was the method of their march; they would take three steps forward, and two steps backward. In this way, they would advance, very gradually, to the hill where the church stands. Having reached this, they laid their gifts upon the altar and then danced down the church aisle, to the porch, door and outside.
One can see, that, to make an advance of one step, the dancers and singers had to take five distinct steps. In this way, although the route from the river to the church was only one mile, in length, five hours were required to go the whole route. Many joined in the procession who were so old and weak, that they were likely to fall down. Nevertheless many weak folk, tried it, for they hoped to get rid of their pains and aches.
Especially hard was the ascent of the sixty stone steps, on the hillside. To mount to the top, five hundred human steps were necessary.
Thus it happened that not a few fell down along the march. Fainting and weary, they were left by the wayside. On the church steps, strong men stood by, on either side, to watch for any, who, from weakness, should lose their balance and fall down. Those who were likely to do so, or could not keep up, had to be dragged away quickly, lest they should be crushed by the waves of the oncoming dancers. In the frenzy of fervor and excitement, those who were waltzing, with giddy brains, might be so absorbed in their own motions, as not to notice what they were doing.
Now there was a young widow, who, out of grief, and hoping for comfort, had come to join in the procession. Being the bride of a few months, she was hoping for a son, and had vowed to St. Willebrod that, if she became the mother of a boy, she would dance from the river’s edge to the saint’s tomb. She prayed fervently that her hopes might be fulfilled.
She joined in the procession, and followed faithfully the rules laid down, but, when scarcely half way to the church, she felt her strength giving out. Fearing lest, if she continued, she might be trampled to death, she left the procession. Then, after a brief rest, she walked out from the open road, some distance into the forest.
There, in her loneliness, her child was born, and it was a boy. Though she rejoiced to have her own, and its father’s hopes fulfilled, yet she felt that she had so overtaxed her strength, in the dancing procession, that she was likely to die.
So, wrapping her babe in one of her own garments, she laid it down on a little bed of fallen leaves. Then scraping clean a part of the ground, she wrote, with a stick, upon the dirt, the name “Lyderic.” Then, her last measure of strength having ebbed away, she died.
A pious hermit, whose dwelling was a hut in the forest, while strolling about, heard the infant’s wail. Coming near the place, whence the sound proceeded, he found the dead mother and the living child. Something else also met his sight and a very wonderful picture it was. There on the bed of leaves, which the mother had scraped up, lay the baby boy. Beside him, lying along the floor of the forest was a doe, and this female deer was suckling the infant. This dumb mother of fawns seemed as careful and as anxious, as if the baby had been her own offspring; and indeed, it was not far away in the deep woods, that the doe kept her little family.
The baby boy, not knowing anything about different kinds of mothers, or qualities of food, was as active, as if living in the nursery of a house, and fondled on a human mother’s lap.
The fawn’s large, deep, lustrous eyes, were appealing to the old hermit’s heart. The wild creature did not tremble, or show any fear, for every beast of the forest seemed to know, and love the old man; as if realizing that he was their friend, and not an enemy, as the hunters were. They could see that he had no weapons, and even a bird could understand that.
The body of the human mother was given Christian burial, though the only conscious mourner was the old man, who hastily made a rustic cross, and set it over the grave; on which, also, he planted some wild flowers.
Now the hermit was not accustomed to take care of babies, but he made a rude cradle; and, every day, the doe mother came, as regularly as to her own little deer, to furnish nourishment to the child. So the infant grew to double his first weight and gave every promise of health and vigor. In a few months, he was crawling on the floor, in the hermit’s hut; and, according to his mother’s writing on the ground, Lyderic was his name.
To the old man, the days and months seemed to fly very fast, as babyhood was left behind, and a robust boy was growing up.
The old hermit recalled his own boyhood’s skill at such things, and made toys for the little fellow, who played happily with them. Anything bright, or shining, was especially attractive to the child.
One day, while the hermit was out among the willow trees, which skirted the stream, to make a whistle, for the baby boy, the fairies came into the hut and visited him at his cradle. They were traveling fairies, for they had come all the way from Wales. One of them, was named Morgana, or, as she was well known, Morgana la Fay. She fell in love with the little fellow, and promised that when he grew up, he was to be her love, while all the fairies agreed to bestow on him the gifts of mind and body, through which he might become a great man and conquer all his enemies.
It would make our story too long, to tell how Lyderic, even while a baby boy, was looked upon as the leader of men, in one of those civil wars, which so long troubled Belgic Land. Once, during battle, his cradle was hung upon a tree branch, and he was called the baby leader, and centuries afterwards, a statue and a fountain were reared at Brussels in his honor.
Lyderic, when fully grown, was known as a man of fine character and tremendous strength. He was unselfish, and always ready to help the weak. In time, he became a crusader, and, going off to fight the Saracens, in Syria, won renown for his bravery. There was no Turk, that could stand against his lance, or sword, or battle axe; and their weapons had no power over him. So he came back, unhurt, to Belgium.
After his return home, he built a castle, but soon tiring of a quiet life, he crossed the sea and traveled in Britain. There he met Gratina, the beautiful daughter of Angart, or Edgar, the King of England. By this alliance, he became very powerful. Then the great monarch, Charlemagne, recognized him as an ally and vassal, and gave him, in fief, the Belgic provinces of Hainault and Brabant.
The flag of Lyderic, as Duke of Brabant, was a tricolor, of black, yellow, and red, in vertical bands. To his mind black stood for the dark forest and the difficulties which are always overcome by the brave. Yellow represented property and gold, the precious metal, which added to human prosperity, and must be guarded; while red was for blood and life, which all brave men willingly gave for their country, when they are called to go to war. Centuries afterward, when all the provinces of Belgic Land were united in one kingdom, and the people in one nation, and the country (in the English form of the name) was known as Belgium, this tricolor became the national flag.
Lyderic spent most of his time in Wales, on the lovely aisle of Avalon. Here he was in fairy land, for Morgana, jealous of his marriage to Gratina, had cast a spell upon him. So, while others died and were buried, he lived on. The time passed without his notice, or his asking about age, until two hundred years had slipped away.
Morgana, the fairy, had given Lyderic a fire brand, which, as long as it kept burning, his life would be prolonged; but when it went out, he would die. Lyderic lived with the knights of King Arthur, enjoying, with them, jousts and tournaments, and many wonderful sports and adventures. Yet at last, he tired of the company even of the knights of the Round Table, and longed to cross the sea, and live again in Belgic Land.
One day, when this desire became too strong to resist, he had an iron box made, and carefully keeping the fire alight, he left Avalon, and crossed the sea to his old home. Meeting the handsome widow of King Philip, this royal lady wished to marry him. Lyderic, while yielding to her wishes, and his mind occupied with his love affairs, forgot to attend to the fire, to keep it kindled, and so let the brand go out.
Then Morgana, the fairy, who had been jealous of the Princess Gratina and was now even more jealous of Lyderic’s new wife, carried him off to Avalon, and shut him up in the cave, where sit King Arthur and his knights, awaiting the day when they shall come forth, in time of greatest need. There Lyderic sleeps yet.
The fame of Lyderic lives in the myths of the fairy world, in many lands, from Denmark to Wales, and from Belgium to Italy. All the boys and girls of Europe have heard his story, in one form or another. As for Morgana, she is known all over the world, and in all time, as the conjurer. There are those who can discern her dwelling place on the clouds and vapors, especially off the coast of Calabria in Italy. At certain seasons of tide and weather, one may see, in the sky, and far above earth, or sea, a colossal picture of the trees and hills, of the houses and palaces of the wonderful city of Reggio, magnified many times, as it is reflected on the sky. One thus gets an idea of how the land looks where fairies live.