(medieval music playing)
NARRATOR: It is a story told
in the wools and silks of seven monumental tapestries.
It begins here in the loveliest of meadows
on the edge of a forest.
We are in a world rich and fantastic.
It is a world where seasons do not exist,
where midsummer fruits and spring flowers are at one.
It is a world where lords and courtiers
set out on noble quests.
It is a world where men will hunt the unicorn.
For the young lord of the manor and his companions,
this is to be no medieval stag hunt.
Dressed more for the court than the chase,
these men are in pursuit
of a legendary quarry whose spell is everywhere.
Here stands a cherry tree whose ripe fruit suggests
both eternal life in paradise for man's soul
as well as the delights of earthly love and revelry.
The glade itself is carpeted with thousands of flowers,
all of them in bloom.
Fragrant, sweet violets,
primrose, marigold, and periwinkle all underfoot,
and emitting their powers to heal and cleanse,
protect and calm,
or simply to please and bring joy
with their delicate beauty.
But the hounds keeper's attention
is drawn by something else.
The master's devoted greyhounds have sensed a nervousness
in the sudden alertness of the tracking hounds.
What scent have they picked up?
It could simply be a passing animal.
It is the unicorn.
It has been sighted.
The hunt can begin.
The scenting dog, a limer, has done its work only too well.
Its trainer, surly-looking and gray-bearded
after a long track which began before dawn, points.
"Now," his eyes seem to be telling his lord.
"Take the beast now."
But the hunters will wait.
Their company, grown to twice its original size,
would never dare violate this merciful act of purification.
Were this brook to be poisoned or tainted
by the venom of a serpent,
the simple touch of the unicorn's magical horn
cleanses it and makes it safe for all creatures to drink.
These men know and believe this.
The lion, waiting patiently with his mate, knows this also.
The other animals know it too,
though the panther bares its fangs
at the sight of the hideous hyena
as the jennet turns with alarm.
From skittish stag to trembling rabbit,
to the pheasants gazing into the unblemished waters
of the fountain...
...all the beasts of the earth, themselves hunted by man,
share the sanctuary of the unicorn's simple rite.
All here in this place
cannot help but respect the scene's tranquility.
If this is truly to be a hunt,
the excitement of the chase will be the thing.
For the moment, there is no haste.
Everyone can wait.
(horn blowing)
The unicorn is off!
The hunters are in pursuit.
"The river," a hunting horn signals.
"Our quarry is crossing the river!"
On every side, the hounds follow in full cry.
(horn blowing)
Game birds are ignored.
Field daisies, the eye-of-Christ flower,
are trampled underfoot.
"We have him," the young lord is told.
"We have him!"
Grim and determined,
one of the hunters attacks with malevolence.
(drum beating)
More dogs are unleashed.
Other hunters come nearer.
A swift and powerful unicorn
more daring than any gallant lover
leaps up onto the river's opposite bank
to meet his attackers, and they are there, ready.
Once they have surrounded the unicorn,
they will kill it like any other prey.
(horn blowing)
Yet as the men move in to strike the mortal blows,
the horn which sounds is not a hunter's.
It is the angel Gabriel, whose scabbard is inscribed,
"Ave Regina Caelorum"-- hail, queen of the heavens.
And his call proclaims that the unicorn is Christ himself.
He shall be betrayed and rendered harmless
and then shall die.
For now, this fabulous prey meets the onslaught
of its attackers with horn and hoof.
The huntsmen lunge and stab.
Their hounds leap in and then recoil.
One pays the price for its reckless savagery.
Another master prudently restrains his hound.
The attacks grow more and more ferocious.
These hunters will have their prey.
The placid stream runs by.
Woodcock and mallard duck flee in alarm.
Only the heron, stately and calm,
can ignore the terrifying confrontation.
It has happened before, his noble stance suggests.
It shall happen again.
Noble too is the young lord,
watching with unexpected compassion.
Despite the hunters' cold-blooded ferocity,
they are indeed unable to kill the unicorn,
who defends himself as, in the words of Isaiah,
"I will tread them in mine anger and trample them in my fury,
and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments."
It will take another force
to pacify and then defeat this magnificent creature.
(medieval music playing)
Only the touch of a virgin maid can subdue a unicorn.
Hers is a power even earthly creatures feel.
Despite the scent of blood, this hound,
so recently ferocious, is now quiet.
This the unicorn knows.
In his response to the maiden's innocence,
his humility is as Christ's, but he is also the lover
captivated by the sweet promise of worldly love.
The ruse cannot fail.
Some moments more
and the hunters will move in to strike their final blows.
It is the slyest of treacheries,
a betrayal of the soul and of love and human feeling.
The unicorn has been drawn to this chaste enclosure
by the power of pure innocence.
The signal to take him is given.
(medieval music playing)
But he can only gaze up at the maiden's beauty in rapture.
(medieval music playing)
The end is quick and savage.
All ritual of the hunt is lost.
Men and dogs become one.
They kill the beast,
which screams its agonies to the heavens.
It is over.
The unicorn is dead.
At the outskirts of the castle, outside its wall,
people wait for the returning hunters.
They have heard the sound of the horn.
Now they want to see the trophy.
This is the prize.
Milk-white neck encircled with oak, hawthorn, and holly,
it is more than a hunter's quarry.
It is a living thing which has been crucified.
One of the hunters bears the prized horn.
It is the trophy.
The young lord and his lady wish to possess
the horn's magical powers for themselves.
But there is little triumph here.
None of the joy and excitement
which usually welcomes the end of a hunt.
There is solemnity and a sense of sadness.
For some, there is even cruel satisfaction.
The young lord and his lady will accept their prize,
but in their acceptance,
there is more than what the magical horn promises.
There is knowledge.
They know now what they have done.
The unicorn has been killed.
(music resumes)
The unicorn lives.
He is risen as a Christ in paradise.
Within his wooden enclosure,
the unicorn will allow himself to remain chained forever.
It is a place of dreams and prayers,
where orchids bless a man with fertility.
And carnations signify Christ and the Virgin.
St. Mary's thistle speaks of chastity,
and the Madonna lily invokes the Virgin Mary herself.
Among the most humble of insects and amphibians,
this is where the unicorn rules.
Lover, bridegroom, or Christ himself,
he will remain thus because people believe.