The Messenger of the Black Prince 14

The Messenger of the Black Prince 14

“Greetings, sir Traveler,” he cried, “from the King of the Birds.”

 

I drew in my horse. He took this as a sign that I was interested. He

screwed up his mouth again and let out a short shrill note. Of a sudden,

as though they had been waiting for it, every bird in the cages started

once more to sing. They were soon at the highest point. The fellow had

his head cocked on one side with his ear turned towards the cages like a

music master trying to detect a false note. Then, as he did before, he

put his knuckle in his mouth. He blew one quick blast and the sounds

died away as quickly as though the birds had been stricken dead.

 

“Sir,” said the King of the Birds with a wave of his hand, “the parrot

there can tell your fortune. He is like the owl, one of the wisest of

birds.” To suit his action to his words he tapped the parrot on the

head. He placed a box which held a number of pieces of parchment before

it. The parrot bent over and with its beak tossed one of the small

sheets out on the ground. The King pounced upon it and held it out

before my astonished eyes.

 

“Unfold it, sir, and read it at your leisure,” said the man. “It may

help you on your way.”

 

With that he bowed and stood rubbing his hands. I smiled of course at

his simplicity. A sort of pity took hold of me. In bulk he was almost

the size of an ox. Without doubt he was as poor as any of his birds. He

was dependent for all that he got upon his ability to amuse those who

fell across his path. Yet, with all that, the seriousness of the world

had no resting place upon his shoulders. In his own province he was, as

he claimed, as absolute as a king, and to my way of thinking far happier

than any of whom I have ever heard.

 

I did not want to wound his feelings. With the pretext that I must be

going, I leaned over and tossed a handful of small silver into his

hands. At the same time I clapped my heels against the horse’s flanks

and with a wave of my arm bade him “Adieu.”

 

I thought I had done with him. I had given him more than he had counted

on, I am sure. I had no other idea but that he would gather up his cart

and make his way to the nearest village. But my horse had scarcely

carried me ten steps when there fell upon my ears the same whistling

with which he had first greeted me. Then followed the chorus of the

birds. I turned in the saddle and looked back. The great fellow was

standing in the middle of the road. His hands were extended towards me.

His chest was heaving like a bellows and the sweat was streaming from

his forehead. For all that he was smiling like a pleased child. His

little eyes were twinkling and blinking in the light of the sun. When he

saw that I had turned about, he struck still higher notes and the birds

with him.

 

I rode slowly on and on. I turned now and then to wave back at him. At

each turning I saw the same figure in the middle of the road and heard

the same trilling sounds. They grew fainter and fainter. The man himself

grew dimmer and dimmer. At length the warbling ceased. For the last time

I waved “farewell.” But as I did, there he was with his head thrown

back, his thumb under his arm and one foot proudly before the other.

When he realized that I would soon be out of sight he threw both arms

out towards me to wish me good fortune on my way.

 

So it went with me. On that great highway I found myself in a new and

varied world. One strange character passed after the other with each

quite different from the one before. At first I thought them only the

odds and ends of all humanity driving forward without aim or purpose.

But after a while I had to acknowledge that of the people I met, I was

the least in experience of them all. I began to make a fresh estimate of

men and their manners. They soon impressed me with the thought that they

knew what they were about as well as I. The only difference between them

and me was that they had interests other than my own. And to cap it all

a certain shrewdness warned me that if I were to continue to cope with

them, I must sharpen my wits to the keenness of theirs.

 

I went on and on. I took time to feed my horse and eat a bite myself in

the shade of the trees. The afternoon came and went. The sun was

dropping behind the hills. An uneasiness took hold of me lest I be

forced to lie out in the open exposed to the uncertainties of the night.

It was rapidly getting dark. My uneasiness was turning into fear, when I

came upon a bend in the road and behind it a broad stretch of thick

woods.

 

I stopped and looked circumspectly around. I might have passed on, but,

as I gazed, I spied a little house or cottage hidden far in among the

trees. Not a soul was in sight. It seemed a place deserted. The walls

were of stone and very old for they were covered with moss in patches

here and there. There was a blackness about them from the dust of the

road, besides, on the corners and the window-ledges they were worn with

pieces knocked off. The windows themselves were hardly visible. They

were matted with cobwebs and dirt so that it was scarcely possible that

any light could shine through them.

 

An old slab of stone served as a door-step, but it was surrounded with

weeds that grew waist-high even as far as the edge of the road. There

was little inviting about the house. Indeed, the more I examined it, the

more I felt that I should leave it as it was.

 

I was about to give my horse the rein when I observed a thin curl of

smoke lifting lazily in the air from a chimney in the rear. I knitted my

brows in surprise. I looked again to make certain. Then, with curiosity

getting the better of me, I got down from the horse, led him by the

bridle and tied him to the nearest tree.

 

I cannot tell you why I did it. I suppose it was the mystery and the

strangeness about the place, but before I gave thought to the

consequences, I had brushed my way through the weeds and was knocking at

the antiquated door.

 

I drew a deep breath and stood waiting. The time seemed very long

indeed. My heart began to flutter in my breast. A feeling that my

actions were rash stole over me. The horse neighed. The sound struck me

like a warning that I ought to let well enough alone and be further on

my way. I was about to turn when I heard a board creak within. The quick

shuffling of feet came to me through the door. Then there fell a silence

that was like the hollowness of an empty cave.

 

I was curious and fearful alike. I walked back to the middle of the

road. The smoke came from the chimney in a thicker volume than before. I

shifted in my mind to reason out the situation. When I had considered

every side of it, I laughed at my fears.

 

“It is only some poor peasant,” I thought, “—probably too deaf to hear.”

 

With my mind fixed I strode boldly back. I knocked more loudly and

resolutely than before. But no sound came. I waited a moment and knocked

again. The only answer was the cawing of a crow that passed soaring over

my head. My impatience burst its bounds. I took the latch in my hand,

thinking to rattle it, when to my surprise the door yielded to my touch.

As by some magic it swung slowly open and I beheld the interior of the

room.

 

I expected to find the place within as uninviting as it was without. A

fire was burning at the far end and over it hung on a chain a pot which

was bubbling and boiling and giving out a most savory odor. At the side

of the wall stood a chair, but of the kind you might think belonged not

in a peasant’s hut but in the palace of a king. It was of the finest

make. The legs and back were curved and scrolled and gilded like new and

the cushions of a velvet delicately blue. In that one flash I saw, too,

a table standing in the middle of the room. The top reflected the shine

of the fire, for it was polished like wax.

 

If I was surprised at the first glance, I was the more amazed as my eyes

got accustomed to the semi-darkness of the interior. The walls, instead

of being black or grimy were as white and cheerful as though they were

entirely new and instead of the stone flags which I expected to find,

the floor was laid in the smoothest wood.

 

“Whoever lives here,” I said half aloud, “has gone out for a while. I’ll

take a seat. When they return, we can strike a bargain for a lodging for

the night.”

 

To suit the purpose I shut the door. It was swinging slowly when of a

sudden it was dashed past my face and struck the door-jam with a bang.

The unexpectedness of it made me wink. When I opened my eyes there was a

man standing before me. His brows were drawn into an ugly frown. The

look on his face was of the blackness of night. His jaws were set but

his lips were curled back in a snarl and his fists knotted in anger as

though he was about to strike.

 

“Dog!” The word came from between his teeth in a hiss.

 

I was so taken unawares that I retreated a step. I glared helplessly at

him. Then a bitter smile of hatred slowly crossed his features like that

of a savage who has run down an enemy.

 

“So,” he drawled, “you’ve proved the mouse at last.”

 

I was too stupefied to reply.

 

“Why!” I gasped. “There’s some mistake—mouse——?”

 

“You’ve fallen into a trap, haven’t you?”

 

By degrees my breath came back to me.

 

“I’ve never seen you before,” I managed to say. “Surely——”

 

He cut me off with a growl.

 

“You don’t have to see a man to do him a harm, do you?” he said, and

took a step towards me. “The next time a man is tied to a tree and asks

for a drink of water——”

 

He did not finish, but made a lunge at me with his arms outstretched. It

took all my alertness to spring back out of his way. Then, like a flash

the thought of the scrivener’s dagger popped into my mind. I jerked it

from my belt and raised it menacingly over my head.

 

The fellow stopped in his tracks. He shot a glance over my shoulder to

the back of the room. I swung the dagger in the air with the thought

that if I forced him from the door, I might escape. But my arm was

hardly half way around when a sharp crack caught me on the wrist. The

pain shot through me like the cutting of a knife. I loosed my grasp. The