The Palace Of The Night

Tonight's storytelling is called 'The Palace of the Night' by Henry Beston. We will take a journey with Prince Porphyrio and set sail for the Emperor’s city in search of Lady Liria. Instead...we will arrive on the dark isle of the Black Magician who rules the fairy world from sunset til dawn. Will Prince Porphyrio and Lady Liria rescue themselves from this dark eerie place? Let’s find out!
Sweet dreamzzz...
Music 'Dreaming' by Mathilda Skonare Karlsson

Transcript

Tonight's reading is the story of the Palace of the Night by author Henry Besten.

We will take a journey with Prince Porfirio and set sail for the Emperor's City in search of Lady Lyria.

Instead,

We will arrive on the dark isle of the Black Magician who rules the fairy world from sunset till dawn.

Will Prince Porfirio and Lady Lyria rescue themselves from this dark,

Eerie place?

Let's find out.

And so as always my friend,

Settle in comfortably under the covers.

Take a full,

Comfortable breath.

And as you exhale,

Relax and let go.

Allow any tension to just melt away.

Letting your body sink deeper and deeper down into the softness of your bed.

There is nothing else to do and nowhere else to be.

So just lay back,

Relax,

And enjoy the story.

Once upon a time,

There was an Emperor of the Isles who had but one son,

The Prince Porfirio.

On the day which beheld the Prince's coming of age,

The Emperor summoned the youth to his council chamber and said to him,

Dear son,

When you were a little child,

I pledged to you the hand of the Lady Lyria,

Daughter of my friend and ally,

The Emperor of the Plain.

You are now of age,

And I would fain send you forth to find the Princess and win her for your own.

Then replied the tall,

Golden-haired Prince,

Dear father,

Give me but a brave ship,

And I will this very eve set sail for the Emperor's city and greet the Lady Lyria.

Pleased with his speech,

The Emperor gave orders that a fine ship be swiftly prepared for the voyage,

And this was done.

And now it was night,

And the vessel lay waiting,

Her sails gleaming green-white in the moonlight,

Her ladders shrouds gently swaying against the pale and starry sky.

When came the ebb of the midnight tide,

The anchors were weighed,

The great sails trimmed to the breeze,

And the vessel piloted forth to the measureless plain of the sea.

Now as the great ship sped upon her furrowed way,

Porfirio decided on the spur of the moment to visit the fair of the Golden Bear,

And fled before the wind to the festival city.

Little by little the ship left behind her the blue of the deeps,

And entered the green waters of the shallows.

Suddenly there was a cry of,

Land Ho!

And from afar,

Over the waves,

Porfirio beheld the great tower of the fair.

A giant golden image of a bear,

Standing erect,

Crowned the high tower-top,

And shone dolly bright above the haze.

At sundown,

The Prince,

Accompanied by his mariners,

Found himself in the midst of the great fair,

In the very heart of the din,

The medley of outlandish costumes,

The babble of strange tongues,

And the shrill cries of merchants.

Surely there was never such a marketplace as the fair of the Golden Bear.

Everything in the world was there to be bought and sold.

At one booth,

A vulnerable man in a scholar's gown and velvet cap sold words,

Rare and beautiful words,

And drove a brisk trade with a crowd of poets and lovers.

At another,

An old woman in green sold rosy glasses to those who were at outs with the world.

And at still another,

A joyous fellow in blue offered sunbeams which he had caught in a mirror and imprisoned in bits of magic glass.

Porfirio was quite delighted with the sunbeams,

Which shone night and day like diamonds aflame with golden fires.

The Lady Lyria will surely be pleased with one of these,

Thought he,

And purchased the finest of all.

Now it came to pass that,

As he walked about the fair with his company of sailor men,

Porfirio caught sight of a rustic fellow in brown corduroys who was carrying a sea bird in a wicker cage.

And because he loved the wild animals of the sea,

The prince said to the countryman,

Good friend,

Whither go you with your bird?

To the animal merchant,

Sir,

Replied the fellow.

Tis a wild bird which I found in my field on a morning after a storm.

Only look,

Sir,

It wears a circle of feathers on its head like a crown.

Why,

So it does,

Said the young prince.

Come,

Will you sell it to me?

Oh,

Yes indeed,

Sir,

Replied the countryman.

Tis yours for a florin of gold and a penny of silver.

And he held out his hand for the sum.

Good,

Said Porfirio,

And he paid the money.

Then to the countryman's amazement,

He threw open the door of the cage and allowed the sea bird to escape.

With a glad cry and a mighty beating of its grey wings,

The creature climbed into the splendor of the sunset,

Dwindled to a black speck,

And slowly vanished from their eyes.

Once more the prince set sail.

For a few days the weather remained tranquil and fair.

Then came a night of cloud and a rushing wind which increased during the day to a hurricane.

Now arose a great clatter,

The howling of the wind through the shrouds,

The cracking and straining of the timbers of the ship,

The cries of the sailors,

And the roaring and foaming of the deep.

All night long,

Through the wild ocean dark,

The prince's ship drifted nearer and nearer the unknown waters of the southern sea.

Suddenly,

Just before the dawn,

A tremendous noise was heard.

The vessel trembled throughout her length and crashing down once more on a hidden reef broke apart.

A huge wave swept Porfirio from the deck,

Some wreckage hurled itself upon him,

And he knew no more.

When he awoke again,

Close upon noon,

He found that the waves had carried him to the stony beach of a dark and unknown isle.

A stately wall of cliffs of the strangest dark blue stone surrounded it.

One broken mast of the prince's ship still rose forlorn above the tumbling waters on the reefs,

But of the gallant crew there was not a sign.

With a heavy heart,

Porfirio trudged off to look for shelter and for aid.

He walked many hours along the curving shore,

And now as the tide was rising,

He found himself close by a noble promontory that sloped from the cliff top to foundations in the sea.

Half climbing,

Half dragging himself along the stones and terraces of this ridge,

The prince attained at last the height of the blue wall.

A great dark isle lay open before him,

A solitary isle of shadowy lands,

Gloomy woods,

And rocks and hillocks of the same dark stone he had marked before.

Save for the faint murmur of the encircling sea below and the sighing of the wind,

The isle was as silent as a land beneath the deep,

Indeed so still and dark it was that it seemed as if the night reigned there,

Forever untroubled by the day.

In the very heart of the gloom,

Lifted high against cloud mountains gathered in the west,

A stately palace rose.

After a long winding journey through a wood,

Dark as a leafy cave,

Porfirio arrived at the portals of the dwelling.

The palace was as silent as a stone.

Of silver were its massey doors,

And they were sealed and barred.

From turret to foundation stone,

Its windows were with silver shutters,

Closed against the day.

Not a sign or a memory of living things was there to be seen.

Wondering in his heart at the mystery,

Porfirio presently made his way into a noble garden,

Wherein were pools and basins of blue water rimmed about with silver,

And tall,

Dark trees stately as night.

Then to his wonderment,

The prince beheld that the flowers in the garden opened only in the night.

The pale,

Fragrant jasmine hid there,

The moonflower dreamed,

And the shy star daisy gathered her petals before her face.

Suddenly the prince heard steps behind him,

And turning swiftly beheld a fair princess gazing at him with eyes in which wonder,

Alarm,

And hope might all be seen.

Speak,

Who are you?

What are you doing here?

Said the princess quickly.

To this,

Porfirio replied that he was a prince who had been shipwrecked on a voyage,

And he told the princess of his adventures.

Alas,

Replied the lady,

You have come to the dark land.

Know you not into whose power you have fallen?

This dark isle is the dwelling of the magician of the night who rules the fairy world from sunset to the morn.

When comes the dawn,

His mighty power wanes,

And he and his people of the night hasten to this locked and shuddered palace,

Here to lie hidden from the sunlight which is their enemy and deadly fear.

I alone go forth,

For I,

Alas,

Am immortal,

But hearken to my story.

I am the Princess Lyria.

Porfirio started.

My father is the emperor of the plane.

On midsummer eve,

As I was walking with my handmaidens in the garden,

A messenger from my father arrived,

Bidding me to come at once to the great hall of state.

I obeyed the message,

And going to the hall,

Found there the magician of the night who had just presented a haughty petition for my hand.

Because of his fear of the magician,

My father was very ill at ease.

All looked to me for an answer.

I replied courteously that,

Though I felt highly honored at the demand,

I nevertheless felt bound to refuse,

For I had been affianced since childhood to another.

For you must know,

Good prince,

That my father's true friend and ally of the emperor of the Isles had pledged my hand to his only son,

The Prince Porfirio.

At this,

The magician,

With a mocking smile,

Bowed low and disappeared into the night,

When a terrible storm of his contriving descended upon our unfortunate city,

Overturning our tallest towers and strewing ruin far and wide.

Our torches,

Quenched by the rain and wind,

My maidens and I took refuge in a great chamber of the north turret.

At the height of the storm,

The wind suddenly burst open the double portals.

There came a flash of lightning and a roar of thunder,

And I beheld the magician standing tall and motionless between the doors,

Surrounded by a dozen of his creatures of the night.

I cried out,

But his servant seized me and led me forth.

Great wings bore me upward through the very torment of the heavens.

A darkness fell on me,

And I knew no more.

When I awoke,

I found myself here in the palace of the night.

Farewell,

Dear land of the golden plain,

Whose harvests I shall never see.

Farewell,

Dear Prince Porfirio of the Isles.

But I am Porfirio,

Cried the Prince,

And I was on my way to find you,

Noble Lyria,

When the storm swept me to this isle.

You may be sure the heart of the Princess leaped when she heard these tidings.

Forgetting that he was himself but a shipwrecked wanderer much in need of aid,

The Prince,

Like the brave fellow that he was,

Could think of nothing but of rescuing his lady from the dark magician.

As for the Princess,

She could think of nothing but the plight of Porfirio,

Tossed friendless and forlorn upon the isle.

But at length,

She shook her head and smiled.

Today,

Said she,

Is mine,

And tomorrow also.

But the magician has warned me to be prepared,

For the wedding will take place by sundown on the following day.

But look,

The shield of the sun breaks the storm clouds close above the waters.

Twilight approaches,

The hour of the magician is at hand.

You must go.

Hide yourself well tonight and come to the garden tomorrow when the chimes ring thrice.

On that dark wall,

You will find some strangely shaped fruits growing.

Fear not to eat them when you hunger.

I bid you farewell,

Prince Porfirio.

Farewell Princess.

Do not despair.

We shall outwit the dark magician,

Replied the Prince.

And now the Prince lay hid in the heart of a great tree,

Watching the doors and windows of the palace slowly opening in the twilight.

Suddenly huge bells swung forth in waves of heavy sound.

Huge music played,

And the thousand windows filled with the magic glow of moon fire.

All night long,

The people of the night held festival,

But at the break of dawn,

The silver windows closed slowly on their hinges,

The music grew faint,

And the murmur died away.

On the second afternoon,

The Prince,

In his impatience,

Came early to the shadowy garden.

The Princess Liria was not to be found,

So Porfirio wandered away into the dark alleys by the pools.

Suddenly he found himself looking at his own reflection in a huge round mirror supported by two marble statues,

One at each side.

Trying to move a little,

The Prince discovered that his reflection did not move.

He lifted an arm.

The image remained motionless.

He shook his head.

The mirror gave no sign.

Huzzled,

Porfirio left the spot and saw his reflection remaining behind the glass.

Presently he heard the welcome footsteps of Liria,

And as the luggers walked and talked and discussed plans of escape,

The Prince told her of the mirror he had found.

Uttering a little gasp of alarm,

The Princess cried,

Now we are lost indeed.

That is a mirror of memory,

And reveals to the magician the faces of those who walk these paths.

He gazes into the glass every evening,

And as soon as he sees your reflection therein,

His demons will be sent in search of you.

There is only one hope.

Go to the sea.

Follow the cliff for a leak to the west of the promontory,

And you will find at its base the opening of an ocean cave.

When you arrive there,

The tide will be at half flood,

And the entrance will still be visible above the waves.

Fight your way within and climb to the cavern's height.

Little by little,

The rising tide will seal the portal and hide you from the search.

Make haste,

Porfirio,

For there is not an instant to lose.

Remember with himself for being a fool.

Porfirio hurried down to the sea and sought out the cave.

Twilight was at hand.

The tide was rising fast.

Already the entrance was almost closed by the sea.

Buffeted by the breakers and tossed against the cliff as he strode,

The Prince at length made his way into the cave and climbed to a shelf of rock above the height of the tide.

A few minutes later,

The water closed the entrance completely,

Thus imprisoning Porfirio in a hollow darkness through which the ebb and flow of the sea swept with chuckles and whispering laughter.

All night long waited Porfirio in the cold,

Watery dark.

Toward the end of the Prince's vigil,

The earth suddenly shook,

The waters hushed,

And through the silence and the dark,

Porfirio heard the long thunder of a mighty overthrow.

What can that be,

Thought he?

When the first red rays of the sun streamed along the rocky floor of the cave,

Porfirio descended from his refuge and walked out of the cave mouth to the sea.

Now as Porfirio walked along the shore,

He came across the splendid painted chest which had lain in his cabin on the ship.

Its brazen lock,

Though tarnished by the waters,

Was still highly clasped,

But sea and stone had broken the wood loose from the hasps and the Prince had little difficulty in raising the lid.

With a rueful smile,

He gazed down into his robes and find a ray lying musty and sand-strewn within.

There lay his Prince's circlet of gold,

Here his jeweled sword estate,

Here the gifts he had meant for Princess Liria,

And among these,

Tucked away in the very corner of the chest,

Porfirio found the sunbeam he had purchased at the fair of the Golden Bear.

Were Liria armed with this,

Cried he,

The magician of the night could not prevail against her.

At the thought,

A new strength leaped into his weary heart and he hurried along the cliff toward the promontory.

The storm had now cleared away,

The ocean thundered and broke into silvery white foam at the foot of the blue barrier,

And the Isle of the Night raised itself defiantly against a bright and royal sun.

The magician,

However,

Had not been idle.

The mirror had told its story.

A search had been made.

A legion of creatures had sought Porfirio in every corner of the Isle.

The approach of dawn caused the magician to abandon this pursuit and resolve to render the island unapproachable from the sea.

With a spell of tremendous power,

He caused the promontory to break from the other cliff and fall in scattered and monstrous ruin to the beach below.

It was the thunder of this overthrow which had shaken the earth and sounded through the cave when Prince Porfirio was in hiding.

As a last precaution,

The magician forbade Lyria to leave the Palace of the Night and locked and sealed every door and window.

Presently the Prince,

Hastening along the beach,

Came in sight of the ruined headland and a great fear washed over him as he beheld the triumph of his enemy.

How was he to reach the headland height?

The cliff wall now encircled the entire island without a break.

League after league he trudged along the shore,

Through the tide,

Searching for some way to scale the overhanging walls.

Higher and higher climbed the sun.

The shadows fell to the east.

The afternoon waned and still Porfirio had found no path to the top.

Desperate at last,

He attempted to scale the steep face of the blue precipice.

From ledge to ledge,

The Prince struggled,

Climbing with torn fingers and aching arms until at last he fell backward,

Faint and overcome on a shelf of rock high above the sea.

When his strength returned,

He found himself close by an airy of seabirds brooding on their nests in shelves and rifts of the rock.

With a great clamor of piping and crying,

The creatures rose startled from their nests,

So filling the air with wings,

That Porfirio closed his eyes.

Suddenly the master of the airy,

Uttering a joyous call,

Swept down close to the Prince,

And with an upward surge of his heart,

Porfirio recognized the winged king,

Whose freedom he had purchased at the fair of the Golden Bear.

And now the seabirds gathered about the Prince,

Some gathering folds of his garments into their talons,

Others lifting him on broad wings,

Till presently he was born from the narrow ledge and the sound of the sea into the splendor and silence of the sky.

The end of day was at hand.

The fiery sun lay just above the western waters,

Its lower rim almost resting on the waves,

And once again the hour of the magician of the night had arrived.

The clow of seabirds flew inland over the blue isle and settled to the earth at the very doors of the palace of the night,

And opening his arms to them,

Porfirio cried aloud,

His thanks as they wheeled and fled.

The Prince walked boldly to the great door and blew a loud blast on the warder's horn.

There came no answer to his call.

The palace of the night remained silent and dark.

The sun's rim dipped,

A little breeze made its way from the sea through the mysterious gardens,

The flowers of the night stirred like sleepers in a dream.

Oh,

Jewel of the sun,

Cried Porfirio,

Give me now your aid,

And with these words he touched the sunbeam to the lock.

A crack resounded,

Then a shattering crash,

And the door swung open wide.

Porfirio at length found himself at the threshold of the great hall of the palace of the night.

Rich hangings of dark blue velvet strewn with stars of silver and gold hung from the giant walls.

A thousand lamps of pale moon fire swayed on silver chains from the unseen height overhead.

There were huge columns and dark aisles.

To one side of the hall,

By a silver throne raised upon a dais,

Stood the magician of the night,

His arms folded on his breast.

Proud and pale by his side,

Near a second throne stood the Princess Lyria,

And around them were gathered the people of the night.

As the doors parted,

All turned to gaze at Porfirio.

Fixing his dark eyes upon the Prince,

The magician chanted a terrible incantation,

But his words shattered against the sunbeam.

Seize him,

Commanded the magician.

At these words,

A host of dark beings surged about Porfirio,

Encircling him,

Yet afraid to attack.

Porfirio took Lyria by the hand and led her to ward the door,

But as he did so,

The magician caused awesome silvery fires to bar the outward way.

At the horizon's edge,

The waters were leaping up about the sun.

Baffled by the flame,

Porfirio,

Still guarding Lyria,

Fought his way towards a great stair at the very end of the hall.

In the wall there,

Barred with silver and shuttered with stone,

A giant circular window faced the west.

And now there arose an uproar through the hall and sounds of magic and thunder.

Porfirio quickly touched the sunbeam to the window bar and through the double shutters opened wide.

The sun was yet above the way,

Sky and water were aflame,

And the great tide of sunlight swept into the palace of the night like the music of many trumpets.

From all within the palace,

A great wailing cry arose that presently died away.

When Porfirio and Lyria turned to gaze,

The magician and his people had vanished,

Conquered and forever powerless,

And the velvet hangings were but cobwebs clinging to the walls and the lamps of moon fire but empty shells.

Then Porfirio and Lyria walked hand in hand in the darkening sea and beheld there a brave merchant ship which the sea bird was guiding to the isle.

You may be sure it did not take the jolly mariners long to rescue the lovers from the headland,

And thus the prince and princess fared to Lyria's realm where there their marriage was celebrated with the greatest ceremony.

In time,

Porfirio became a king and Lyria a queen,

And thus they lived happily ever after.

Reviews

Awesome!!!! Thank you

🙏🏼

Listened several times and have never heard the entire story. Thank
you!