A strange-looking steed it was! ugly as a hobgoblin—large enough undoubtedly for a rider of Xit’s proportions, yet not equal in size to a full-grown Shetland pony. It had a singularly weird and wicked-looking head, befitting an animal possessed of supernatural powers, horns as well as ears, and immense eyes, which it could open and shut and turn in any direction. Only the head, neck, and tail were visible, the body of the horse being covered with red and yellow-striped trappings that reached to the ground. On its head was a shaffron of blood-red plumes. It was furnished with a bridle having very broad reins, and a saddle with a very high peak and crupper; but in lieu of stirrups a funnel-topped boot dangled on either side. Such was Pacolet’s horse.
The enchanter himself was a swarthy-complexioned man, with quick, black eyes, and gypsy features, and probably belonged to the wandering tribe. Habited in a tight-fitting dress of tawny silk, and wearing a brass girdle inscribed with mystic characters, and a tall pointed cap covered with similar figures, he carried a white rod, with a small gilt apple on the top.
On either side of the magic steed, with their huge partisans in hand, stood Gog and Magog. The laughter playing about their broad features showed they were in high good humor, and expectant of entertainment. The dwarfish hero of the day had not yet made his appearance, he being in the king’s train.
While the royal party were taking up a position on the platform contiguous to the magic steed, the fantastic appearance of which caused much merriment, Sir Thomas Seymour went up to Pacolet, and after a few words with him, clapped his hands to intimate that all was ready. At this signal, the diminutive figure of Xit instantly detached itself from the group of laughing pages and henchmen. Marching with a very consequential step, and bowing ceremoniously to the king as he passed, the dwarf was met half way by Pacolet, who, taking him by the hand, lifted him on to the platform.
“My steed is ready, if you are, good Master Xit,” said the courteous enchanter. “Will it please you to mount him at once?”
“Not so fast, worthy Pacolet,” rejoined Xit, conscious that all eyes were upon him, and anxious to display himself. “Give me a moment to examine thy horse. By my troth! he hath a vicious-looking head.”
“You will find him tractable enough when you are on his back,” observed Pacolet, displaying two ranges of very white teeth.
“May be so; yet I like not the expression of his eye. It hath malice and devilry in it, as if he would rejoice to throw me. Saints protect us! the beast seemed to wink at me.”
“Not unlikely,” replied Pacolet, who had placed one hand on the horse’s head; “he has a habit of winking when he is pleased.”
“Is that a sign of his satisfaction?” observed Xit. “I should have judged the contrary. How is the creature designated?”
“He is called Dædalus—at your service, good Master Xit.”
“Dædalus!” exclaimed Xit, startled. “Pray Heaven he prove me not an Icarus. I like not the name. ‘T is of ill omen.”
“‘T is a name like any other,” observed Pacolet, shrugging his shoulders. “So ho! Dædalus—so ho, sir! You see he is eager for flight.”
“If thou art afraid to mount, say so at once, and retire,” cried Gog, gruffly. “His majesty will be wearied with this trifling.”
“I afraid?” exclaimed Xit, indignantly. “When didst ever know me shrink from danger, base giant? One more question, worthy Pacolet, and I have done. What mean those boots?”
“They are designed to encase thy legs, and keep thee in thy seat,” rejoined the enchanter.
“But I can maintain my seat without them,” returned Xit, with a displeased look.
“A truce to this! Off with thee without more ado!” cried Magog. And seizing the dwarf, he clapped him in the saddle, while Pacolet, without a moment’s loss of time, thrust his legs into the boots. Xit was disposed to be rebellious during the latter proceeding, but his strength availed him little, and he was obliged to yield with the best grace he could. At last, Pacolet left him, and went to the rear of the horse.