Twilight Land
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Howard Pyle >> Twilight Land
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So all that while the beggar sat at the towngate and begged until
came noontide, when who should he see coming but the same three
men who had come for him the day before. "Ah, ha!" said he to
himself, "now the king is going to give me some more good
things." And so when the three reached him he was willing enough
to go with them, rough as they were.
Off they marched; but this time they did not come to any garden
with fruits and flowers and fountains and marble baths. Off they
marched, and when they stopped it was in front of the king's
palace. This time no nobles and great lords and courtiers were
waiting for his coming; but instead of that the town hangman--a
great ugly fellow, clad in black from head to foot. Up he came to
the beggar, and, catching him by the scruff of his neck, dragged
him up the palace steps and from room to room until at last he
flung him down at the king's feet.
When the poor beggar gathered wits enough to look about him he
saw there a great chest standing wide open, and with holes in the
lid. He wondered what it was for, but the king gave him no chance
to ask; for, beckoning with his hand, the hangman and the others
caught the beggar by arms and legs, thrust him into the chest,
and banged down the lid upon him.
The king locked it and double-locked it, and set his seal upon
it; and there was the beggar as tight as a fly in a bottle.
They carried the chest out and thrust it into a cart and hauled
it away, until at last they came to the sea-shore. There they
flung chest and all into the water, and it floated away like a
cork. And that is how the king set about to ruin the poor beggar-man.
Well, the chest floated on and on for three days, and then at
last it came to the shore of a country far away. There the waves
caught it up, and flung it so hard upon the rocks of the sea-beach that the chest was burst open by
the blow, and the beggar
crawled out with eyes as big as saucers and face as white as
dough. After he had sat for a while, and when his wits came back
to him and he had gathered strength enough, he stood up and
looked around to see where Fate had cast him; and far away on the
hill-sides he saw the walls and the roofs and the towers of the
great town, shining in the sunlight as white as snow.
"Well," said he, "here is something to be thankful for, at
least," and so saying and shaking the stiffness out of his knees
and elbows, he started off for the white walls and the red roofs
in the distance.
At last he reached the great gate, and through it he could see
the stony streets and multitudes of people coming and going.
But it was not for him to enter that gate. Out popped two
soldiers with great battle-axes in their hands and looking as
fierce as dragons. "Are you a stranger in this town?" said one in
a great, gruff voice.
"Yes," said the beggar, "I am."
"And where are you going?"
"I am going into the town."
"No, you are not."
"Why not?"
"Because no stranger enters here. Yonder is the pathway. You must
take that if you would enter the town."
"Very well," said the beggar, "I would just as lief go into the
town that way as another."
So off he marched without another word. On and on he went along
the narrow pathway until at last he came to a little gate of
polished brass. Over the gate were written these words, in great
letters as red as blood:
"Who Enters here Shall Surely Die."
Many and many a man besides the beggar had travelled that path
and looked up at those letters, and when he had read them had
turned and gone away again. But the beggar neither turned nor
went away; because why, he could neither read nor write a word,
and so the blood-red letters had no fear for him. Up he marched
to the brazen gate, as boldly as though it had been a kitchen
door, and rap! tap! tap! he knocked upon it. He waited awhile,
but nobody came. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked again; and then, after
a little while, for the third time--Rap! tap! tap! Then instantly
the gate swung open and he entered. So soon as he had crossed the
threshold it was banged to behind him again, just as the garden
gate had been when the king had first sent for him. He found
himself in a long, dark entry, and at the end of it another door,
and over it the same words, written in blood-red letters:
"Beware! Beware! Who Enters here Shall Surely Die!"
"Well," said the beggar, "this is the hardest town for a body to
come into that I ever saw." And then he opened the second door
and passed through.
It was fit to deafen a body! Such a shout the beggar's ears had
never heard before; such a sight the beggar's eyes had never
beheld, for there, before him, was a great splendid hall of
marble as white as snow. All along the hall stood scores of lords
and ladies in silks and satins, and with jewels on their necks
and arms fit to dazzle a body's eyes. Right up the middle of the
hall stretched a carpet of blue velvet, and at the farther end,
on a throne of gold, sat a lady as beautiful as the sun and moon
and all the stars.
"Welcome! welcome!" they all shouted, until the beggar was nearly
deafened by the noise they all made, and the lady herself stood
up and smiled upon him.
Then there came three young men, and led the beggar up the carpet
of velvet to the throne of gold.
"Welcome, my hero!" said the beautiful lady; "and have you, then,
come at last?"
"Yes," said the beggar, "I have."
"Long have I waited for you," said the lady; "long have I waited
for the hero who would dare without fear to come through the two
gates of death to marry me and to rule as king over this country,
and now at last you are here."
"Yes," said the beggar, "I am."
Meanwhile, while all these things were happening, the king of
that other country had painted out the words his father had
written on the walls, and had had these words painted in in their
stead:
"All Things are as Man does."
For a while he was very well satisfied with them, until, a week
after, he was bidden to the wedding of the Queen of the Golden
Mountains; for when he came there who should the bridegroom be
but the beggar whom he had set adrift in the wooden box a week or
so before.
The bridegroom winked at him, but said never a word, good or ill,
for he was willing to let all that had happened be past and gone.
But the king saw how matters stood as clear as daylight, and when
he got back home again he had the new words that stood on the
walls of the room painted out, and had the old ones painted in in
bigger letters than ever:
"All Things are as Fate wills."
All the good people who were gathered around the table of the
Sign of Mother Goose sat thinking for a while over the story. As
for Boots, he buried his face in the quart pot and took a long,
long pull at the ale.
"Methinks," said the Soldier who cheated the Devil, presently
breaking silence--"methinks there be very few of the women folk
who do their share of this story-telling. So far we have had but
one, and that is Lady Cinderella. I see another one present, and
I drink to her health."
He winked his eye at Patient Grizzle, beckoning towards her with
his quart pot, and took a long and hearty pull. Then he banged
his mug down upon the table. "Fetch me another glass, lass," said
he to little Brown Betty. "Meantime, fair lady"--this he said to
Patient Grizzle--"will you not entertain us with some story of
your own?"
"I know not," said Patient Grizzle, "that I can tell you any
story worth your hearing."
"Aye, aye, but you can," said the Soldier who cheated the Devil;
"and, moreover, anything coming from betwixt such red lips and
such white teeth will be worth the listening to."
Patient Grizzle smiled, and the brave little Tailor, and the Lad
who fiddled for the Jew, and Hans and Bidpai and Boots nodded
approval.
"Aye," said Ali Baba, "it is true enough that there have been but
few of the women folk who have had their say, and methinks that
it is very strange and unaccountable, for nearly always they have
plenty to speak in their own behalf."
All who sat there in Twilight Land laughed, and even Patient
Grizzle smiled.
"Very well," said Patient Grizzle, "if you will have it, I will
tell you a story. It is about a fisherman who was married and had
a wife of his own, and who made her carry all the load of
everything that happened to him. For he, like most men I wot of,
had found out--
Where to Lay the Blame.
Many and many a man has come to trouble--so he will say--by
following his wife's advice. This is how it was with a man of
whom I shall tell you.
There was once upon a time a fisherman who had fished all day
long and had caught not so much as a sprat. So at night there he
sat by the fire, rubbing his knees and warming his shins, and
waiting for supper that his wife was cooking for him, and his
hunger was as sharp as vinegar, and his temper hot enough to fry
fat.
While he sat there grumbling and growling and trying to make
himself comfortable and warm, there suddenly came a knock at the
door. The good woman opened it, and there stood an old man, clad
all in red from head to foot, and with a snowy beard at his chin
as white as winter snow.
The fisherman's wife stood gaping and staring at the strange
figure, but the old man in red walked straight into the hut.
"Bring your nets, fisherman," said he, "and come with me. There
is something that I want you to catch for me, and if I have luck
I will pay you for your fishing as never fisherman was paid
before."
"Not I," said the fisherman, "I go out no more this night. I have
been fishing all day long until my back is nearly broken, and
have caught nothing, and now I am not such a fool as to go out
and leave a warm fire and a good supper at your bidding."
But the fisherman's wife had listened to what the old man had
said about paying for the job, and she was of a different mind
from her husband. "Come," said she, "the old man promises to pay
you well. This is not a chance to be lost, I can tell you, and my
advice to you is that you go."
The fisherman shook his head. No, he would not go; he had said he
would not, and he would not. But the wife only smiled and said
again, "My advice to you is that you go."
The fisherman grumbled and grumbled, and swore that he would not
go. The wife said nothing but one thing. She did not argue; she
did not lose her temper; she only said to everything that he
said, "My advice to you is that you go."
At last the fisherman's anger boiled over. "Very well," said he,
spitting his words at her; "if you will drive me out into the
night, I suppose I will have to go." And then he spoke the words
that so many men say: "Many a man has come to trouble by
following his wife's advice."
Then down he took his fur cap and up he took his nets, and off he
and the old man marched through the moonlight, their shadows
bobbing along like black spiders behind them.
Well, on they went, out from the town and across the fields and
through the woods, until at last they came to a dreary, lonesome
desert, where nothing was to be seen but gray rocks and weeds and
thistles.
"Well," said the fisherman, "I have fished, man and boy, for
forty-seven years, but never did I see as unlikely a place to
catch anything as this."
But the old man said never a word. First of all he drew a great
circle with strange figures, marking it with his finger upon the
ground. Then out from under his red gown he brought a tinder-box
and steel, and a little silver casket covered all over with
strange figures of serpents and dragons and what not. He brought
some sticks of spice-wood from his pouch, and then he struck a
light and made a fire. Out of the box he took a gray powder,
which he flung upon the little blaze.
Puff! flash! A vivid flame went up into the moonlight, and then a
dense smoke as black as ink, which spread out wider and wider,
far and near, till all below was darker than the darkest
midnight. Then the old man began to utter strange spells and
words. Presently there began a rumbling that sounded louder and
louder and nearer and nearer, until it roared and bellowed like
thunder. The earth rocked and swayed, and the poor fisherman
shook and trembled with fear till his teeth clattered in his
head.
Then suddenly the roaring and bellowing ceased, and all was as
still as death, though the darkness was as thick and black as
ever.
"Now," said the old magician--for such he was--"now we are about
to take a journey such as no one ever travelled before. Heed well
what I tell you. Speak not a single word, for if you do,
misfortune will be sure to happen."
"Ain't I to say anything?" said the fisherman.
"No."
"Not even boo' to a goose?"
"No."
"Well, that is pretty hard upon a man who likes to say his say,"
said the fisherman.
"And moreover," said the old man, "I must blindfold you as well."
Thereupon he took from his pocket a handkerchief, and made ready
to tie it about the fisherman's eyes.
"And ain't I to see anything at all?" said the fisherman.
"No."
"Not even so much as a single feather?"
"No."
"Well, then," said the fisherman, "I wish I'd not come."
But the old man tied the handkerchief tightly around his eyes,
and then he was as blind as a bat.
"Now," said the old man, "throw your leg over what you feel and
hold fast."
The fisherman reached down his hand, and there felt the back of
something rough and hairy. He flung his leg over it, and whisk!
whizz! off he shot through the air like a sky-rocket. Nothing was
left for him to do but grip tightly with hands and feet and to
hold fast. On they went, and on they went, until, after a great
while, whatever it was that was carrying him lit upon the ground,
and there the fisherman found himself standing, for that which
had brought him had gone.
The old man whipped the handkerchief off his eyes, and there the
fisherman found himself on the shores of the sea, where there was
nothing to be seen but water upon one side and rocks and naked
sand upon the other.
"This is the place for you to cast your nets," said the old
magician; "for if we catch nothing here we catch nothing at all."
The fisherman unrolled his nets and cast them and dragged them,
and then cast them and dragged them again, but neither time
caught so much as a herring. But the third time that he cast he
found that he had caught something that weighed as heavy as lead.
He pulled and pulled, until by-and-by he dragged the load ashore,
and what should it be but a great chest of wood, blackened by the
sea-water, and covered with shells and green moss.
That was the very thing that the magician had come to fish for.
>From his pouch the old man took a little golden key, which he
fitted into a key-hole in the side of the chest. He threw back
the lid; the fisherman looked within, and there was the prettiest
little palace that man's eye ever beheld, all made of mother-of-pearl and silver-frosted as white as
snow. The old magician
lifted the little palace out of the box and set it upon the
ground.
Then, lo and behold! a marvellous thing happened; for the palace
instantly began to grow for all the world like a soap-bubble,
until it stood in the moonlight gleaming and glistening like
snow, the windows bright with the lights of a thousand wax
tapers, and the sound of music and voices and laughter coming
from within.
Hardly could the fisherman catch his breath from one strange
thing when another happened. The old magician took off his
clothes and his face--yes, his face--for all the world as though
it had been a mask, and there stood as handsome and noble a young
man as ever the light looked on. Then, beckoning to the
fisherman, dumb with wonder, he led the way up the great flight
of marble steps to the palace door. As he came the door swung
open with a blaze of light, and there stood hundreds of noblemen,
all clad in silks and satins and velvets, who, when they saw the
magician, bowed low before him, as though he had been a king.
Leading the way, they brought the two through halls and chambers
and room after room, each more magnificent than the other, until
they came to one that surpassed a hundredfold any of the others.
At the farther end was a golden throne, and upon it sat a lady
more lovely and beautiful than a dream, her eyes as bright as
diamonds, her cheeks like rose leaves, and her hair like spun
gold. She came half-way down the steps of the throne to welcome
the magician, and when the two met they kissed one another before
all those who were looking on. Then she brought him to the throne
and seated him beside her, and there they talked for a long time
very earnestly.
Nobody said a word to the fisherman, who stood staring about him
like an owl. "I wonder," said he to himself at last, "if they
will give a body a bite to eat by-and-by?" for, to tell the
truth, the good supper that he had come away from at home had
left a sharp hunger gnawing at his insides, and he longed for
something good and warm to fill the empty place. But time passed,
and not so much as a crust of bread was brought to stay his
stomach.
By-and-by the clock struck twelve, and then the two who sat upon
the throne arose. The beautiful lady took the magician by the
hand, and, turning to those who stood around, said, in a loud
voice, "Behold him who alone is worthy to possess the jewel of
jewels! Unto him do I give it, and with it all power of powers!"
Thereon she opened a golden casket that stood beside her, and
brought thence a little crystal ball, about as big as a pigeon's
egg, in which was something that glistened like a spark of fire.
The magician took the crystal ball and thrust it into his bosom;
but what it was the fisherman could not guess, and if you do not
know I shall not tell you.
Then for the first time the beautiful lady seemed to notice the
fisherman. She beckoned him, and when he stood beside her two men
came carrying a chest. The chief treasurer opened it, and it was
full of bags of gold money. "How will you have it?" said the
beautiful lady.
"Have what?" said the fisherman.
"Have the pay for your labor?" said the beautiful lady.
"I will," said the fisherman, promptly, "take it in my hat."
"So be it," said the beautiful lady. She waved her hand, and the
chief treasurer took a bag from the chest, untied it, and emptied
a cataract of gold into the fur cap. The fisherman had never seen
so much wealth in all his life before, and he stood like a man
turned to stone.
"Is this all mine?" said the fisherman.
"It is," said the beautiful lady.
"Then God bless your pretty eyes," said the fisherman.
Then the magician kissed the beautiful lady, and, beckoning to
the fisherman, left the throne-room the same way that they had
come. The noblemen, in silks and satins and velvets, marched
ahead, and back they went through the other apartments, until at
last they came to the door.
Out they stepped, and then what do you suppose happened?
If the wonderful palace had grown like a bubble, like a bubble it
vanished. There the two stood on the sea-shore, with nothing to
be seen but rocks and sand and water, and the starry sky
overhead.
The fisherman shook his cap of gold, and it jingled and tinkled,
and was as heavy as lead. If it was not all a dream, he was rich
for life. "But anyhow," said he, "they might have given a body a
bite to eat."
The magician put on his red clothes and his face again, making
himself as hoary and as old as before. He took out his flint and
steel, and his sticks of spice-wood and his gray powder, and made
a great fire and smoke just as he had done before. Then again he
tied his handkerchief over the fisherman's eyes. "Remember," said
he, "what I told you when we started upon our journey. Keep your
mouth tight shut, for if you utter so much as a single word you
are a lost man. Now throw your leg over what you feel and hold
fast."
The fisherman had his net over one arm and his cap of gold in the
other hand; nevertheless, there he felt the same hairy thing he
had felt before. He flung his leg over it, and away he was gone
through the air like a sky-rocket.
Now, he had grown somewhat used to strange things by this time,
so he began to think that he would like to see what sort of a
creature it was upon which he was riding thus through the sky. So
he contrived, in spite of his net and cap, to push up the
handkerchief from over one eye. Out he peeped, and then he saw as
clear as day what the strange steed was.
He was riding upon a he-goat as black as night, and in front of
him was the magician riding upon just such another, his great red
robe fluttering out behind him in the moonlight like huge red
wings.
"Great herring and little fishes!" roared the fisherman; "it is a
billy-goat!"
Instantly goats, old man, and all were gone like a flash. Down
fell the fisherman through the empty sky, whirling over and over
and around and around like a frog. He held tightly to his net,
but away flew his fur cap, the golden money falling in a shower
like sparks of yellow light. Down he fell and down he fell, until
his head spun like a top.
By good-luck his house was just below, with its thatch of soft
rushes. Into the very middle of it he tumbled, and right through
the thatch--bump!--into the room below.
The good wife was in bed, snoring away for dear life; but such a
noise as the fisherman made coming into the house was enough to
wake the dead. Up she jumped, and there she sat, staring and
winking with sleep, and with her brains as addled as a duck's egg
in a thunder-storm.
"There!" said the fisherman, as he gathered himself up and rubbed
his shoulder, "that is what comes of following a woman's advice!"
All the good folk clapped their hands, not so much because of the
story itself, but because it was a woman who told it.
"Aye, aye," said the brave little Tailor, "there is truth in what
you tell, fair lady, and I like very well the way in which you
have told it."
"Whose turn is it next?" said Doctor Faustus, lighting a fresh
pipe of tobacco.
" Tis the turn of yonder old gentleman," said the Soldier who
cheated the Devil, and he pointed with the stem of his pipe to
the Fisherman who unbottled the Genie that King Solomon had
corked up and thrown into the sea. "Every one else hath told a
story, and now it is his turn."
"I will not deny, my friend, that what you say is true, and that
it is my turn," said the Fisherman. "Nor will I deny that I have
already a story in my mind. It is," said he, "about a certain
prince, and of how he went through many and one adventures, and
at last discovered that which is--
The Salt of Life.
Once upon a time there was a king who had three sons, and by the
time that the youngest prince had down upon his chin the king had
grown so old that the cares of the kingdom began to rest over-heavily upon his shoulders. So he
called his chief councillor and
told him that he was of a mind to let the princes reign in his
stead. To the son who loved him the best he would give the
largest part of his kingdom, to the son who loved him the next
best the next part, and to the son who loved him the least the
least part. The old councillor was very wise and shook his head,
but the king's mind had long been settled as to what he was about
to do. So he called the princes to him one by one and asked each
as to how much he loved him.
"I love you as a mountain of gold," said the oldest prince, and
the king was very pleased that his son should give him such love.
"I love you as a mountain of silver," said the second prince, and
the king was pleased with that also.
But when the youngest prince was called, he did not answer at
first, but thought and thought. At last he looked up. "I love
you," said he, "as I love salt."
When the king heard what his youngest son said he was filled with
anger. "What!" he cried, "do you love me no better than salt -- a
stuff that is the most bitter of all things to the taste, and the
cheapest and the commonest of all things in the world? Away with
you, and never let me see your face again! Henceforth you are no
son of mine."
The prince would have spoken, but the king would not allow him,
and bade his guards thrust the young man forth from the room.
Now the queen loved the youngest prince the best of all her sons,
and when she heard how the king was about to drive him forth into
the wide world to shift for himself, she wept and wept. "Ah, my
son!" said she to him, "it is little or nothing that I have to
give you. Nevertheless, I have one precious thing. Here is a
ring; take it and wear it always, for so long as you have it upon
your finger no magic can have power over you."
Thus it was that the youngest prince set forth into the wide
world with little or nothing but a ring upon his finger.
For seven days he travelled on, and knew not where he was going
or whither his footsteps led. At the end of that time he came to
the gates of a town. The prince entered the gates, and found
himself in a city the like of which he had never seen in his life
before for grandeur and magnificence--beautiful palaces and
gardens, stores and bazaars crowded with rich stuffs of satin and
silk and wrought silver and gold of cunningest workmanship; for
the land to which he had come was the richest in all of the
world. All that day he wandered up and down, and thought nothing
of weariness and hunger for wonder of all that he saw. But at
last evening drew down, and he began to bethink himself of
somewhere to lodge during the night.
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