The Strange Tale of the Snake Ring (4 page)

Early the next morning Thomas was awoken by one of the king's valets who brought him a fine new suit of clothes.

“The king says, put on these clothes and wait for him to send a message. When he is ready to see you, go at once to the Throne Room,” announced the valet. “If you wish, I am to stay and help you to dress.”

“Thank you,” replied Thomas, “I should be very grateful for your help. I have never worn such fine clothes before.”

When he was properly dressed in his new finery he sat on the edge of his bed waiting for the king's message. He was now quite clear in his mind what he was going to reply to the king's offer.

When Thomas entered the Throne Room, the king looked at him with a very stern expression.

“Well, Thomas, what is it to be? Do you stay and learn to be a king, or will you go and marry your farm girl – and be a peasant as you were before?”

“May it please Your Majesty,” said Thomas firmly, “I must go.”

“It doesn't please me at all,” said the king in an angry voice. “Haven't you learned that it is dangerous to displease a king? What if I were to order you to stay, and throw you into prison if you disobey?”

“I am very sorry that you are displeased and angry, Your Majesty,” replied Thomas, “especially as you have been so kind to me all the time I have been in your service. If you were to put me in prison, I should bear my punishment patiently, and live for the day when you would set me free and allow me to go home.”

“Very well,” said the king, even more angrily than before.

“You do not value your freedom, let us see whether you value your life. Kneel down here in front of me!” As he was saying this, the king drew his sword. “If you do not carry out my command, I can cut off your head with one stroke of this sharp sword. Now, once again, will you go, or will you stay?”

“I must go – either home, by your leave, or to meet my maker in Heaven, should I be good enough to go there.”

“Close your eyes,” ordered the king.

Thomas did so.

The sword flashed in the morning light as the king raised it high above his head – and brought it down gently on Thomas's right shoulder, then his left.

“Open your eyes,” said the king.

Thomas looked with astonishment – not only was he still alive, but the king was actually smiling. “Congratulations, Thomas,” said the king in quite a different voice from his previous angry tone. “You have passed all the tests, and shown me that you really love your Gerda, and that you are determined to keep your promise to her. Now that I have dubbed you with my sword, you are no longer plain Thomas, but Sir Thomas of the Shining Kingdom – and all in this palace shall respect your new rank. And by the way…” he continued with an even broader smile and a twinkle in his eyes, “I was only pretending to be angry. I think I did it quite well, don't you?”

Thomas was too shocked and surprised to say anything except, “Thank you, Your Majesty…”

“Go back to your room, Thomas, and collect your wits,” said the king. “You may set off for home in a few days, but till then, you have much to learn about your new situation. You are a good boy and you have done well. I heartily wish that you were staying. But a king, too, must keep his promises.”

When Thomas had left, the king called a servant and sent him to tell the squiremaster to attend the Throne Room at once.

“My young servant Thomas, is to be a knight,” the king told the squiremaster. “He must learn in days what your young squires learn in years. He is intelligent and hard-working and deserves his advancement.”

“With respect, Your Majesty,” answered the old squiremaster, “what you ask is quite impossible.”

“Kings sometimes ask their subjects to do the impossible,” replied the king, “and subjects must obey. So find young Thomas, and begin your work at once. Or perhaps you are getting too old to be squiremaster, and you would like to retire, and end your days cleaning out the stables?”

“I will try to carry out your command, Your Majesty,” said the squiremaster hastily. “I have no wish to retire.”

“Go, then!” ordered the king sharply.

Without further words the squiremaster bowed, and left the Throne Room in search of Thomas.

Thomas soon realised that it would be weeks rather than days before he learned all that the squiremaster had to teach him. So he decided to send another letter to Gerda, telling her the good news. When Thomas asked the Lord Chancellor to send the letter as he had done before, he spoke to Thomas like this:

“Sir Thomas, you are now too important a man to send letters in the ordinary way. I shall choose a servant to be your messenger, and he shall have a swift horse, and take your message wherever you wish it to go.”

This is what Thomas wrote:

The chancellor sent for the messenger to give him his final instructions.

“Now, listen carefully,” he said. “I am trusting you to deliver this message, and I have to tell you that the king himself has ordered it to be sent. Therefore, guard it with your life, and do not for any reason fail to deliver it. If you should fail, it would be better if you never showed your face in this kingdom again. I should personally make sure that the king ordered you to be locked up in the deepest dungeon for the rest of your days!”

The messenger only replied, “Yes, Your Excellency,” but he thought to himself,
There's no need to threaten me. I have a good horse, enough money to stay in decent inns on the way, and careful instructions about where to go and who is to receive the letter. There's no reason why I shouldn't deliver it safely.

Soon the messenger was riding out of the palace gates on his journey to Wilhelm's farm, to deliver Thomas's letter. At first, all went well. Each day he covered as much ground as possible without over-tiring his horse, and each night he found an inn for a bed and food, with stabling for his horse. He enjoyed several such days riding though the pleasant countryside, covering as much ground in a few days as Thomas had done in as many months.

When he reached the city of the Prince of Schwarzberg he did not need to climb to the castle, as there was a very good inn just inside the gates. As he wore the king's badge on his shoulder, the sentry let him in immediately. He was on his way again early the next morning.

About noon on that day he entered the forest. His presence was soon noticed by the two robbers, Riese and Zwerg. They sprang on the messenger from the cover of the trees. Riese dragged him from his horse and held him tightly while Zwerg tied his wrists and ankles. They took his horse and his purse, and disappeared into the depths of the forest, leaving the messenger tied and helpless on the ground.

“There are gold pieces in here,” said Zwerg excitedly, as he shook the purse.

“And we'll sell the horse for a good price in the town,” said Riese.

“That was a good day's work,” replied Zwerg, as they made their way to the cave where they lived.

When they opened the saddle-bag to see if the messenger was carrying anything else of value, they found Thomas's letter. As neither of them could read, they just threw it on to their cooking-fire.

At sunset a woodman who was returning to his cottage in another part of the forest found the messenger cold and hungry and tired of calling for help. The woodman treated the messenger kindly. He untied his hands and feet, rubbed his limbs until the stiffness had gone, and took him home to his cottage. There he shared his evening meal, and found him a place to sleep by the fire.

The next morning the messenger told his story to the woodman, and asked him what he should do.

“I cannot return to the king without delivering the letter,” he said, “or I should be thrown into prison.”

“You could go into the town and inform the watch of the robbery,” the woodman suggested, “but the robbers you describe have been sought many times. Their den is so well hidden that they have never been found. In any case, the men of the watch do not often venture outside the town walls.”

“I could find my way on foot to the farm where the letter was to be delivered,” continued the messenger, “but I do not know what the message was, and if I arrived without it, it's certain that the king would be told.”

“Then there's only one thing for you to do,” said the woodman. “You must stay here in the forest and help me with my work. Hide away from all travellers and strangers, until the whole thing has been forgotten. I will give you food and a bed, and hide you when it's needed, if you will learn to cut wood and make charcoal as I do.”

The messenger thought that he would prefer life in the forest, even if the work was hard, to years in the king's deepest dungeon. So he thanked the woodman for his offer, and agreed to stay with him.

* * *

Thomas had now passed all the tests set him by the squiremaster. Although the messenger had not returned, the king agreed that Thomas could set out on his journey home.

On the evening before he began his journey, the king sent for Thomas, and spoke to him thus:

“Thomas, you know that all my servants wear my badge on their shoulders as you do now. But I am going to give you a special badge, which you see here.”

“This badge, as you see,” continued the king, “bears a picture of the sun, painted in gold. When you wear it, you become an Honorary Prince of the Shining Kingdom, and hold a higher rank than any prince or nobleman in the land, except of course, myself and the queen. You need not wear it always. Sometimes it might be more convenient to present yourself as a knight, or even as a poor farmer as you were before. The choice is yours.”

The next morning Thomas mounted the fine horse that the king had given him, and turning to salute the queen and the princesses who were waving from their window, left the palace.

Gerda no longer waited at the gate each day after her work. She had almost forgotten the song they used to sing together. But she still remembered Thomas and had never given up hope that one day he would return. As for the ring, she still felt very guilty about losing it. She hoped that Thomas would be so pleased to see her, when he returned, that he would soon forgive her.

Then trouble struck the farm. One morning Wilhelm had an accident. He was feeding the cattle in the barn when he fell awkwardly on the cobbled floor. He found that he could not move without great pain, and realised that his right leg was broken.

Robert and Gerda had already left the house to work in the fields. Gertrud was churning butter in the dairy, and did not hear Wilhelm's cries for help. Not until she had finished the churning, and was crossing the farmyard to return to the house did she realise that something was wrong.

Opening the barn door, she found Wilhelm lying on the floor, by now too weak with pain and shock to utter more than a faint cry. His face was so pale and drawn that she thought he must be near to death. Although greatly upset to find her husband hurt and in so much pain, she knew what she must do.

“I cannot lift you by myself,” she told him. “Robert and Gerda are in the fields. I shall take the horse and ride to the village for help.”

Before she set out, Gertrud made Wilhelm as comfortable as possible. She brought a pillow and blankets from the farmhouse, and covered him to prevent him taking cold. Then as quickly as possible she saddled the horse.

“Keep your spirits up,” she said to Wilhelm, kissing his cold cheek. “I shall be back with help soon.” She mounted the horse and Wilhelm heard hoofbeats dying away in the distance.

A very long time seemed to pass before Wilhelm heard sounds of horses approaching. Gertrud had gone to the convent for help. When the prioress heard what had happened, she sent two of the lay brothers with a horse and a flat four-wheeled cart to take Wilhelm to the infirmary at the convent. There he would be cared for.

The brothers piled hay on their cart to make a soft bed. They tied Wilhelm's broken leg with two stout pieces of wood to prevent the broken bones from moving. Then they lifted him gently on to the cart, and set off to the convent.

Soon Wilhelm was in one of the beds in the infirmary, where he was made as comfortable as possible. The apothecary had made up a soothing herbal drink that would help to dull the pain, and one of the nuns helped him to sip this.

The prioress drew Gertrud aside, and spoke seriously to her:

“Your husband is of an age when a broken leg is a danger to life. We will try our best to make him well again, but we cannot be sure that he will recover. If he does, it will take a long time.”

Wilhelm had been a strong, healthy man all his life. Also, he was determined to be back on the farm. So the nuns were amazed at his progress. Within a few weeks he was well enough to return home, but he could take little part in the work of the farm. He could only hobble about with the help of two sticks. Gertrud thought with dismay that he looked years older since his accident, although of course she did not tell him so.

During all this time, the work of the farm had to go on. Fortunately it was not a very busy time of the year, but the work on a farm is never done. Gerda, Robert and Gertrud had been working even harder than usual.

Now Wilhelm was back home, they hoped that he would gradually be able to take his share of the work. But weeks went by, and he showed little sign of improvement.

One evening after supper, they were all sitting quietly in the big farmhouse kitchen. Wilhelm had been very quiet throughout the meal. Suddenly he spoke.

“Something must be done,” he said, firmly.

No one spoke, as they could see that something very serious was afoot, so Robert, Gerda and Gertrud listened quietly to what Wilhelm had to say.

“I have come to realise that my days as a farmer are over,” said Wilhelm sadly. “I can no longer do a day's work. Gertrud is wearing herself out looking after me and trying to help with the farm work at the same time. So something must be done.”

Wilhelm paused. “Put another log on the fire, Gerda, and I will tell you what I have in mind.”

When Gerda had made up the log fire, Wilhelm made himself as comfortable as he could in his chair, and continued:

“You all know that by the coppice in the south field there is a small cottage, that no-one has lived in since my old father died, years ago. I shall have this cottage made ready, and then Gertrud and I will live there. We shall grow a few vegetables and herbs, and keep a few chickens and geese; and there we will end our days in peace.”

Gerda felt a tear trickling down her cheek at the thought of Wilhelm and Gertrud leaving the farmhouse.

“Do not cry, Gerda,” said Wilhelm kindly, “we shall not be far away, and we are both good for many years yet.”

Now Wilhelm turned to Robert. “You, my son, will be in charge of the farm. Gerda will keep house for you, and we will hire a man from the village, who is willing to work on the farm each day and return home at night. I have taught you all I know about the work of the farm, and I'm sure you will make a success of it.”

“But Wilhelm,” said Gerda, “what will happen when Thomas comes home?”

Wilhelm looked at her sadly. “I do not know how to tell you this, but after such a long time I very much fear that he will never return.”

Gerda was very shocked by this remark. “Do you know something? Have you had news?” she cried. “Is there bad news that I should know?”

“Calm yourself,” replied Wilhelm gently. “We have had no news. We know no more than you do. But after so many years and months you should prepare yourself for the worst. Perhaps you should try to forget about him.”

“I could never forget him,” Gerda burst out, her tears flowing more freely now.

Now Robert spoke for the first time. He was a quiet, thoughtful young man, and was very fond of Gerda. He tried very hard to comfort her.

“Dear Gerda,” he said quietly, “do not upset yourself. If Thomas returns, we shall welcome him like a long-lost brother. There will always be a place for him on the farm. What you will do if you are married, I cannot tell. It will depend on his wishes, and on his situation. In the meantime, you and I have always been like brother and sister, and that we shall always be.”

At this, Gerda stopped crying and became calmer.

So the family continued to discuss the details of Wilhelm's plan, and before bedtime that night had agreed that on the very next day, Robert would ride into the town, and find a thatcher who would come and make the roof of the cottage weather-proof, and a builder who would do various repairs to make it fit to live in once more.

* * *

Just before Wilhelm and Gertrud moved into their cottage, now cosy and comfortable, they had a visit from the parish priest. Father Paulus was an old friend, and had known Robert and Gerda since they were very young children. He had visited Wilhelm in the convent infirmary when he was seriously ill, and was pleased to see him looking so much better. But when he heard what they planned to do, his face grew very serious.

“Listen, my old friend,” said Father Paulus quietly. “It is good that you and your wife should retire from the hard work of the farm, and live quietly in your cottage. But you must not allow Robert and Gerda to live together in the farmhouse unless they are married. The Church would regard that as a great sin.”

“But why?” asked Wilhelm. “They have always been like brother and sister, and that is how they will always be.” “That may be so,” answered the priest. “But Gerda is adopted. She is really no relation to Robert. So it would be just the same as if they were complete strangers.”

Wilhelm was taken aback by what Father Paulus had to say. He imagined all his plans for the future in ruins. He turned to the priest. “Then what can we do?” he asked.

“Two things are possible,” he replied gravely. “Either they must get married, even though it might be a marriage in name only. Or, a reliable lady of mature age must be found, who would live in the farmhouse with them.”

When the priest had left, Wilhelm sent for Gerda and explained what Father Paulus had said. He also made it clear to her that marriage was the only way.

“We are already paying a man to work on the farm,” he said. “There is no way that I could also pay a woman to live in the house. There is still no word from Thomas, nor any sign of his returning. So, for my sake and Gertrud's, will you consider marrying Robert?”

Wilhelm looked so worried, his face white and drawn. Gerda was afraid that the worry would make him ill again. So she promised that she would go away and think seriously about it, and give her answer the next day.

Next morning she sought out Wilhelm and not without a few tears, spoke to him thus: “Dear Wilhelm, you and Gertrud have loved me and surrounded me with kindness all my life, and I would hate to do anything to make you unhappy. I still love my Thomas dearly, but I am beginning to believe that you are right, and that he will never return. So I am asking you if you are able to hire someone to live in the house with us for just a few weeks. If Thomas has not returned by Easter Day, I will marry Robert.”