A Tale Without a Name (14 page)

M
ISERLIX HAD BEEN FIGHTING
at the other end of the enemy camp, and had been busy for some time chasing away a good few of the enemy; not seeing the Prince as he came back, he asked where he was.

No one knew.

Deeply alarmed, he sought him here and there; as he was doing so, some soldiers near the tent of the King the Royal Uncle cried out to him.

“Come here, Master Miserlix, we have something we want to show you,” they said.

And they all burst out laughing.

Between them they were holding up a man from under his arms. His head was sunk on his chest, his hair was dishevelled, his plush, wine-red velvet tabard all white from the dust. And as soon as the soldiers loosened their support, he slid to the ground.

“What is the matter with this poor soul?” asked Miserlix. “Is he wounded or ill?”

The soldiers again burst out laughing.

“Neither the one nor the other,” they replied. “It’s just that he is shaking all over from fear.”

Miserlix approached, with the intention of sending the soldiers away and of setting the man free. When he had a closer look at him, however, he stopped short.

“The Judge!” he cried out.

As soon as Master Faintheart heard Miserlix’s voice, his knees buckled entirely under him, and, slipping through the soldiers’ hands, he collapsed spread-eagled onto the dusty ground.

“Where was he?” asked Miserlix. “How come he did not escape with the others?”

“Do not ask how we found him!” said one of the soldiers. “We entered the tent of the King to gather up his things and take them to the Prince, when we saw there a seat covered with a rug. A friend of mine sat on it to rest, and suddenly the seat crumbled down and my friend fell on his back. We were frightened that perhaps we had broken something valuable and precious, and so we lifted up the rug hastily. And what did we see then? His lordship, half-dead with fright!”

Miserlix gazed at him with disgust.

“Gather him up and bring him to the Prince,” he ordered. “His Highness will himself decide his fate.”

And again he went looking for the Prince.

He found him sitting by a tree trunk, his head bandaged with a scarf. A soldier, who happened to be a doctor, was washing and dressing the wound on his shoulder.

At his feet lay the bloodied body of the youth, and the Prince pointed him out to Miserlix.

“He let himself be killed to save me,” he said hoarsely.

“He did what anyone amongst us would have done,” replied Miserlix.

Sweet daybreak was approaching fast.

The men, tired and hungry, were garnering from the enemy tents anything they could find to eat, and were preparing to lie down and sleep.

At that moment, some soldiers arrived, dragging Master Faintheart behind them.

“Not now,” Miserlix said to them. “His Highness is exhausted.”

The Prince heard him, however, and wanted to know what the matter was.

When he saw and recognized the Judge, he ordered that he be brought before him.

“Master Faintheart, what explanation can you give for your own presence here?” he asked him.

The unperturbed manner of the Prince soothed Master Faintheart’s fears, and immediately he grew bold.

“Oh, my lord!” he moaned. “If
only
you knew what
miseries
I have been through since I last saw you. I had to go away, poor man that I am, to save myself from Cunningson, who would
most surely
have killed me if he ever found out what I told you! Only, from one single fright I found myself in a
thrice-worse predicament
! I crossed to the neighbouring kingdom, and before I knew what had happened, they had
seized me and dragged me, against my will, to the King your Royal Uncle.”

He paused for a moment, and cast a foxy glance around him, to make sure everyone believed him.

“Well, then?” asked the Prince quietly.

“Well then, the King your Royal Uncle told me that he intended to conquer the kingdom of the King your father, and offered me great honours and riches if I were to guide him here.
But of course I would not hear of such a thing!
”

And again he looked around him, although with less self-assurance this time. Everyone’s profound silence seemed unpleasant to him.

“And so?” the Prince said.

“I replied to him that I would rather die a thousand times than accept such an offer,” Master Faintheart went on. “And the King your Royal Uncle became furious, and he tied me to a horse, and brought me hither shackled in chains. God has shown me his mercy by granting you victory, and you have released me from the hands of that cruel monarch!”

He crossed himself, wiped his eyes, and repeated in a quavering voice:

“God has shown me his mercy!”

The Prince then took out of his pocket a crumpled and bloodstained piece of paper, unfolded it, and laid it in front of the Judge.

“Do you recognize this?” he asked.

As Master Faintheart took a look and recognized the
letter that he had written to Cunningson, he turned green and collapsed on his knees.

“Forgive me, my lord, spare me!” he cried, trembling and shaking all over.

“Master Faintheart,” said the Prince, articulating each word slowly, “you have been a traitor to your country. In the name of our country, I sentence you to a traitor’s death: you are to die by hanging.”

“Spare me!” cried the traitor. “
Forgiveness!
”

And pitiful, his face distorted by fear, he rolled himself on the ground at the Prince’s feet, seeking to kiss them.

The Prince stood up in disgust.

“It is your country that condemns you,” he said.

And turning towards his soldiers, he added gravely:

“Do your duty.”

With that, he turned to leave. One of the soldiers cast a rope around the branch of the nearby tree.

“Not here!” said the Prince, pointing at the dead youth. “This is hallowed ground.”

The soldiers dragged Master Faintheart to the riverbank, to the roots of a mighty oak.

And before the sun had come out, the traitor had paid for his crime.

T
HE SOLDIERS
had very little time to rest that day.

The enemy had left, yet there was much to be done. The master builder with his apprentices secured the bridge back into place, the soldiers buried the dead, foes and friends alike, and Miserlix returned to the mine and to the smithy with his brother, in order to make new arms and in sufficient numbers so that they might resume the fighting and drive the enemy far beyond the borders.

The Prince, after setting up his camp and posting guards all around, sent out scouts to see where his enemies were, and how many were left. Then he went up the mountain to the palace.

The windows were flung wide open, and he was greatly astonished not to hear the usual shrieks of Jealousia and Spitefulnia. He went straight to the scullery, hoping to see first Little Irene.

The scullery was neat and tidy. Some wild greens were simmering gently in a copper pot on the fire, but his sister
was not to be found there, so he went to look for her in the great dining hall.

The door was open.

The King, hands in his pockets, was pacing up and down, pensive and nervous.

The Queen was sitting by the table, striving with infinite perseverance to fashion a crown out of strips of lead foil and odd bits of tin. Only the crown kept breaking up, and the Queen had to start over and over, again and yet again.

Sitting on the window ledge, Little Irene was gazing at the river, and every now and then would wipe her eyes, bright red and swollen from crying.

She got up to go outside, and saw in front of her the Prince, his head bandaged and his arm hanging limp by his side.

She let out a scream, and threw herself at his neck. “Where have you been? What happened to you?” she cried.

The King turned around sharply.

“What’s that? Is it you, at last?” he said half-angrily, half-delightedly. “It was about time you remembered to come back to your father’s house! Have you no thought to spare for us here, and what we are going through, while you spend all your time gallivanting around the town? Fine things have happened since you left us! Your sisters have gone a-wandering with the maids-in-waiting!”

“Yes, indeed!” added the Queen without getting up, entirely absorbed in her crown. “They left, the heartless girls, and they did not take me with them!”

The Prince stood still, transfixed and dazed.

“And where did they go?” he asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine!” replied the King, gesticulating wildly. “They left without telling us anything, and they took with them what food was left from yesterday, so that today we ourselves have nothing to eat!”

“Yes, we do, father,” said Little Irene, wiping her eyes, which kept welling up with tears. “I gathered eggs in the woods and I have boiled wild sorrel. You’ll see. I shall make you a lovely sorrel soup…”

“That’s it, of course! We shall be living on greens from now on!” said the King. “And not just any greens! Wild greens at that!”

And turning to his son, he said abruptly:

“And as for you, did you at least think of killing a wildfowl or two?”

“No,” replied the Prince, “I did not find the time.”

“Of course you did not! You run around with strangers, and what strangers! A fine lot of lowlifes, and as for your own, you do not even spare a thought!” said the King.

Changing tone all of a sudden, however, he asked:

“So tell me, what did you do yesterday with all those raving lunatics? And what happened to your head? Was it they who hit you? How did you get rid of them?”

“I did not get rid of them,” said the Prince with heartfelt emotion. “I led them into battle, where they fought as lions and were victorious, and they saved your kingdom; and many died, father, so your son might be spared…”

The King stopped, somewhat ashamed on account of all the thoughtless words he had been uttering.

“What’s that?! Has there been a battle?” he asked meekly. “But why did you not say so before?”

“And you have been wounded!” cried out Little Irene, struggling to control her sobs.

The Prince recounted to them how the master builder had constructed the bridge; how the soldiers had crossed to the opposite bank under cover of darkness and had taken the sleeping camp by surprise, forcing the enemy to flee, their king with them. He told them with what valour they had fought till daybreak, with farming tools instead of weapons, without food, weary, exhausted, and yet devoted to the end to the Prince who led them.

The King was listening to him, first in astonishment, then with deep-felt emotion, and finally with such enthusiasm that he could no longer control himself, and he clasped his son in his arms.

“You,
it is you who made them worthy!
” he cried. “
You
snapped them out of their stupor; you are the one who deserves to govern them. It is you I shall make king!”

Just at that moment, Polycarpus arrived, too.

“My lord,” he said, “the soldiers are hungry! We went to the grocer on the square to get olives and broad beans, only he won’t give out anything on credit, he says, not without payment. And no one has any money, since no one worked yesterday. What are we to do?”

The Prince unbuckled a wide leather money belt from around his waist and took out a couple of florins.

“Pay for the broad beans and the olives,” he said. “The soldiers are to eat as much as they want. For today this should be enough. As for tomorrow, we will see later what we must do.”

The King was in raptures when he saw the florins.

“Where did you find these?” he asked, delighted. “Send Polycarpus at once to buy us a nice fat turkey or two…”

And he reached out to take the money belt. But the Prince stopped his outstretched hand.

“These florins are sacred, father, they have been stained with blood,” he said.

And he pointed to a large red blotch, which spread across the money belt.

“Polydorus paid for these with his life,” he added with feeling. “They shall be spent, to the last coin, on our country’s behalf.”

“And how do you intend to spend them?” asked the King, feeling vexed and annoyed. “What more do you need to do? The enemy is gone and dealt with!”

“The enemy is not gone, even if he remains unseen,” said the Prince. “And even if he had retreated far beyond the borders, that would not suffice either, for we have no citadels, no army to stop him from coming back.”

“And it is with these florins that you hope to build citadels and provide for an army?” asked the King, laughing outright. “But, my boy, you need whole cisterns full of
florins to do what you say, and still the money would not suffice.”

“I shall start with these,” said the Prince, “and before these are spent, perhaps I shall come by some more.”

“Where? Just tell me where and how?” asked the King, who was becoming peevish once again.

“Where? How?” said the Prince, considering this carefully. “Perhaps by labouring the land, which will nourish us in turn.”

“In a few years then, is that it? And until that time comes, we shall be eating sorrel soup prepared by Little Irene, I presume?”

The Prince lifted up his head.

“Yes, father!” he said resolutely. “For some years the entire land will be eating sorrel soup, and we shall set the example, until the earth can learn to yield its riches once again.”

Deep in thought he went down the mountain and headed towards the camp.

That he needed florins he knew well. But where was he to find them?

He looked around him, and dark gloom filled his heart as his gaze fell upon the uncultivated fields, the roads infested with thorns and potholes, and the desolate villages, which had once been inhabited, prosperous and thriving.

He was passing by the woods. He went through the trees, and sat on the grass to rest. Farther down, a streamlet
gurgled sweetly, rolling its crystalline waters through the thick undergrowth.

In his mind, the Prince was counting how many more days he could feed his soldiers with Polydorus’s florins. And once they had consumed them all, what would they live on, workmen and soldiers alike?

“Oh, if only I had riches!
Great riches!
” he sighed with feeling.

“Well, make them,” said a female voice nearby.

“Knowledge!” cried the Prince.

He ran to the thick undergrowth, pushed the branches to the side, and saw Knowledge on her knees, washing clothes in the water of the stream.

“You did not expect to see me here?” she asked, smiling.

“No, your house is so far away! Why do you come here to do the washing?”

“We no longer live in the cottage, which was too close to the river,” replied Knowledge. “We left as soon as the enemy had crossed the borders, then came here and hid in the woods together with our cow, our chickens and anything else we were able to carry with us. But tell me now, what is it that distresses you?”

“I have great need of florins, as many as could fill a cistern, and I only have these,” said the Prince, pointing to his money belt. “How can I even begin to accomplish the merest trifle with so very little?”

“Begin by buying wheat, barley, broad beans, rice and anything else you could sow,” answered Knowledge.
“Have your soldiers cultivate the fields when they are not engaged in fighting. Hire workmen to lay down new roads and build you storehouses, where you will keep your crops, until you can share them out during the winter, when the forest will be covered with snow, and the wild greens will no longer be in season. Moreover—”

“Moreover the forest with its game, the plain with its wild greens, and the river with its fish shall keep us fed,” interrupted the Prince, his spirit stirred. “Oh, Knowledge! I shall never be able to repay you for all the good you have done me with the advice that you have given me each time I have met you.”

And he dashed off to the camp.