“Hi ho,” said the man. “Welcome to the Island of Fire mainland ferry, sire. Trip to the mainland, two gold sovereigns. With lunch, three gold sovereigns. Could I interest you in a beautifully done, hand-stitched tapestry of the dragon in full eruption? Or how about some fishing line and a hook fashioned from a dragon’s claw? You can fish your way across. Could catch dinner, you know.”
“You don’t happen to have relatives on the island do you?” asked the prince.
The man shook his head so vigorously his hat almost fell off. “No sir,” he said. “No time for family when there are concessions to attend to. Would you be interested in this handsome dragon’s tooth ring? Normally, I’d ask three gold sovereigns but I’m having a close-out and I’m willing to let it go for two-and-a-half.”
“I’ll take the trip to the mainland,” sighed Prince Dall. “Without lunch.” He handed the man two gold sovereigns.
In a flash of the oars they were across and with a “Pleasure to be of service,” a tip of the hat and a turn of the heel, the short, heavily bearded man hopped back in his boat and rowed away.
A well-traveled road led inland from the coast and Prince Dall set out upon it. In a short time he found himself at a crossroads at the crest of a hill. The road ahead led down into a low, pleasant valley. In the center of the valley was a village of neatly kept stone houses with thatched roofs. A stream ran through the village and into the fields beyond. The road to his left flung itself along a ridge and fetched up, some distance away, against a dark and somber castle.
Well, thought Prince Dall, we shall soon find out if the old woman was right. He turned to the left and started off toward the castle.
Part Three
Princes, despite a natural tendency toward impetuousness, when given problems to solve, frequently begin by making a plan, just as ordinary people do. Prince Dall did have a plan. He had worked on it carefully during his four years of wandering. It was this: since the Prince of Rage loved riddles, Prince Dall would engage him in a riddle contest, outwit him with a clever twist of wit, then claim the diamonds for his own and ride home in triumph.
An older and wiser prince might have realized that the plan had a few holes in it. Still, a plan is a plan as a wish is a wish, as anyone between pablum and pork pie can tell you. Before the plan could be tested, even so, it was necessary to get into the castle. That in itself was a problem that needed a plan. First of all, the castle was surrounded by a murky moat with something in it. Prince Dall was quite sure of that since the water now and again moved in strange, rippling patterns as though a very large body was passing by just beneath its surface.
Secondly, because the castle had no windows, there was no hope anyone inside would look out, see him and let him in. There were no nearby trees to swing from. No ropes with hooks to grapple with lying about. No cliffs to drop from. The castle was as hard to enter as a rock.
And basically as ugly, thought the prince sulkily. He threw himself down beside the murky moat to think. He had not been sitting long, however, when he noticed a stout, middle-aged woman approaching. Around her shoulders was wrapped a heavy, brown shawl and trailing behind her, linked together with rope, were three donkeys each piled high with wicker baskets.
Without a glance at Prince Dall, the woman trudged to the edge of the murky moat, unloaded her donkeys then shuffled off down the road toward the village. She had left thirty baskets, each one large enough for a small child to hide in but not one of them big enough to conceal a large prince.
Pity, thought the prince. And yet, he reasoned as he settled down beside the pile of baskets, sooner or later someone from the castle will have to come to collect these baskets.
That day, no one came. Nor that night. On the following morning, a tall thin man leading a wagon loaded with casks of wine and cages of live chickens approached the castle. Ignoring Prince Dall, the man maneuvered his wagon close to the edge of the murky moat and unloaded his cargo. When he had completed this task, he turned his wagon and shuffled off back down the road to the village.
Perhaps, thought Prince Dall, hopefully, I have become invisible. I have heard of such things happening so it could be true.
All the rest of that day no one came for the baskets or the wine or the chickens. Nor that night. On the following morning, two young peasants appeared driving before them a dozen head of cattle. Ignoring Prince Dall, the two tethered their cattle by the edge of the murky moat, then turned and trudged off back down the road to the village.
I am almost certain of it, thought Prince Dall. I have become invisible. If only I could get inside the castle, the rest would be easy.
All the rest of that day no one came for the baskets or the wine or the chickens or the cattle. Nor that night.
On the following morning, as Prince Dall was considering, invisible or not, his chances of making it across the murky moat before whatever was in it made a meal of him, the castle drawbridge let down with a creak, a clump, a cascading clatter of chains and a crash. From out of the castle gloom came a horse-drawn wagon driven by a servant in gray homespun. The wagon racketed across the wooden drawbridge and, ignoring Prince Dall, drew up beside the pile of goods. The servant alighted, loaded the merchandise onto his wagon, tied the cattle on behind and turned back toward the castle.
Prince Dall, now totally convinced of his invisibility, leaped onto the back of the wagon and together they clattered back over the drawbridge and entered the dark, cobbled passageways of the Prince of Rage’s castle. The drawbridge was raised. Taking advantage of the ensuing clatter, Prince Dall slipped from the back of the wagon and set out in search of the Diamond Tree.
He had not far to go. Within fifty paces the passage he followed made a turn to the right, passed through a low, arched tunnel and gave way onto a bright and pleasant courtyard. In the exact center of the courtyard stood a tree with a slender white trunk above which fluttered a dense glistening crown of emerald green leaves. It was quite beautiful, and for a moment Prince Dall stood staring at it in breathless admiration.
An old man, bent and gray, sat resting beside the tree on the surrounding close-cropped grass. Eagerly, Prince Dall ventured closer and, as he did, the old man looked up and turned toward him. How odd, thought Prince Dall. If I am invisible, how does he know I’m here?
At that precise moment six knights in black armor stepped out of the shadows behind the prince, seized and disarmed him and tumbled him rudely, headfirst into a sack.
So much, bump, bump, bump, thought Prince Dall as he was dragged along a stone passageway, bouncing over the paving stones, for, he thought, bump, bump, bump, invisibility.
Over passageways, up stairs, along corridors, across halls, down steps, under archways and around corners, Prince Dall was trundled along in his sack. Then, with one final bump he came to a halt. There was a quick shuffling of several feet, the sack fell open and he looked around.
Prince Dall found himself in a room twice as long as it was wide and half as high as it was from end to end. Along each wall were dozens of baskets overflowing with perfect diamonds, all glowing with such intensity that every detail of the room was clearly illuminated. A score of knights dressed all in black armor and as motionless as carvings lined each side wall. At the far end of the room were double doors that reached higher than a man could jump and at the end nearest Prince Dall an empty throne sat alone on a low dais.
Even as Prince Dall was taking all this in, the double doors swung open and the Prince of Rage entered. He was quite unlike Prince Dall had imagined he would be. Instead of being tall and thin, he was short, with a squat, round torso balanced on pencil-thin legs clad in scarlet hose. Instead of being gaunt and shadowy, he was somewhat green, with a face swollen up like a blowfish centered upon an elegant, ruffled collar. Rather than proceeding at a stately gait, he stumped along in a noisy limp, the result of having stamped his right foot in anger once too often. In sum, he resembled nothing so much as a large, angry, well-appointed frog.
Bro
w furrowed in a fearsome scowl, lip curled in an arrogant sneer, he limped in a glowering circle around Prince Dall, then turned away in disgust and mounted his throne. “Feed him to Slither,” he roared.
“Before you even ask my name?” asked Prince Dall nervously.
“One,” grinned the Prince of Rage evilly, “small piece at a time.”
“Before you’ve heard my riddle?” asked Prince Dall.
“What riddle?” the Prince of Rage hissed. He leaned forward so far on his throne that his chin almost touched his scarlet knees.
“Actually,” said the prince, “I have three. I will tell them to you unless, of course, you decide first to feed me to Slither. But if you can’t solve them all you must grant me one request.”
“Bugs and nonsense!” bellowed Y’ruf. “Next thing you’ll be wanting me to do is set you some sort of ridiculous, heroic, princely task to perform so you can claim my diamonds.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” mused Prince Dall. “It’s not such a bad idea.”
“If I thought of it, it’s a marvelous idea,” sneered the Prince of Rage. “But that’s beside the point. We were speaking of riddles.”
“Then we have an agreement?” asked Prince Dall.
“I will think about it,” said the Prince of Rage. He leaned back so far that his head nearly disappeared behind his stomach. “Put him,” he rumbled, “in the basement.”
Prince Dall spent a long, cold night shackled to the wall of a cell, listening to things of various size, shape and consistency scurry about him in the darkness of the castle dungeon. Water from the murky moat seeped though the rough stones around him and dripped onto the stone floor, and every now and then something quite large struck against the wall from the other side with such force that it shook the entire dungeon.
At dawn Prince Dall was marched through passageways, up stairs, along halls, under archways and finally through a great iron door into a room ablaze with the light from an immense pile of diamonds. In the center of the pile sat the Prince of Rage. Beside the pile and against one wall was a desk where a man in a gray robe sat marking sums on a role of parchment.
“One trillion, four hundred and six,” said Y’ruf. “One trillion, four hundred and seven, one trillion, four hundred and eight. I have decided,” he said, looking up, “to accept your challenge. But with this change. If I can’t guess the answers to your riddles, I will give you a handful of diamonds and your life. If I solve all of them you must solve a riddle I give you and perform a task I name. Fail and I will feed you to Slither or drop you through a crack in the castle floor into never-ending darkness. Where was I?” he demanded of the man in the gray robe.
The man checked his parchment. “One trillion, four hundred and eight, sire.”
“And if I solve your riddle and perform the task you set?” asked Prince Dall.
“Fat chance,” said Y’ruf. “But if you do, you may have as many diamonds as you and three horses can carry.”
“Make it six horses,” said Dall.
“Fah!” snorted the Prince of Rage. “Make it a dozen if you wish. It won’t matter. Now ask your riddles.”
“Done,” said Prince Dall. “Riddle number one is this: ‘Sit in it, jump in it, you cannot dig a hole in it.’”
“Sit, jump, dig. Ha!” yelled the Prince of Rage. He threw two handfuls of diamonds into the air. “That’s easy. The answer is water.”
“Right,” said Prince Dall. He put his tongue in his cheek. “Riddle number two is this: ‘As round as a basket, each end is an out. Not even a dragon can turn it about.’”
“Hmmmm,” said the Prince of Rage. “That’s better.” He put a diamond in his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully.
“Round, two ends, can’t turn it. Ho!” he shouted and flopped over onto his back. “It’s a tunnel.”
“Right again,” admitted Prince Dall. He cocked one eyebrow. “Let’s try number three. ‘You’ll find it cross but never mad. It can divide but never add. You see it runs but never walks. You know it lies but never talks.’”
“Ahhh! Exquisite,” sighed the Prince of Rage. He rolled over onto his stomach and covered his head with diamonds. “Cross, divide, runs, lies. Is it…? No.” He took one shoe off and filled it with diamonds. “Whoop!” he shouted and bounced the shoe off the wall, narrowly missing the man in the gray robe. “Of course! It’s a fence!”
“So much,” said Prince Dall, “for riddles.” He sat down next to the man in the gray robe and waited for the Prince of Rage who was running around the room giggling and throwing diamonds at the ceiling.
When he was out of breath at last, Y’ruf plopped down in front of Prince Dall, giggled once or twice more and said, “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” said Prince Dall.
“Very well,” said the Prince of Rage with an especially wicked smile. “You have twenty-four hours to bring me laughter in a sack and to solve this riddle: ‘A million coins fall gold as hair, at twelve less two to form a square. Beneath the snow she feels no cold, nor do the seasons make her old. Within her circled spell she sleeps, while Bone collects the tears she weeps.’ Do you want a copy to take with you?”
“It might be easier that way,” admitted Prince Dall. “What sort of sack would you like the laughter in?”
“Anything that doesn’t leak,” said Y’ruf. He handed Prince Dall two copies of the riddle and a pen. “Sign the top copy to show you received your riddle and leave it with the accountant.” He waved one hand toward the man in the gray robe. “Where was I?” he demanded.
The man in the gray robe checked his last entry. “One trillion, four hundred and eight, sire,” he said.
The Prince of Rage nodded and turned back to the pile of diamonds. “Don’t just stand there like a ninny,” he said. “You have only twenty-three hours and fifty minutes left.”
Part Four
Time, since it spends many of its hours darting aimlessly between can and cannot, is rarely a dependable ally in princely quests. If you have very little time, for example, as Prince Dall had, and you want time to move slowly, you can practically count on it to be of no help at all.
Thus it was that Prince Dall found himself sitting at a wooden table outside an inn in the village below Y’ruf’s castle. It was past noon and for the better part of an hour he had been looking at his copy of the Prince of Rage’s riddle, first this way and then that, without measurable success.
He had just concluded for the second, or perhaps it was the third time, that he was in serious trouble when he was joined by a short, heavily bearded man dressed from cap to boot in a thick brown robe. The robe was tied at the waist with a simple rope of the sort monks frequently use for that purpose, and the man carried a large blue book with a faded silver pattern of stars and crescents on its covers.
“Hi ho,” said the short, heavily bearded man.
“Don’t tell me,” Prince Dall held up his hand. “You have just bought the concession rights for this village and you are going to offer me lucky charms, mugs and souvenir tankards at bargain prices.”
The short, heavily bearded man shook his head so vigorously his teeth rattled. He sat down opposite Prince Dall. “Actually,” he said. “I’ve given all that up. The concession business is not what it used to be.” He tapped the blue book with one finger and leaned across the table knowingly. “The real money today is in wizardry. I’m taking a course in it now, in fact. All the way up to lesson four: ‘Rhymes, Rhythms, Riddles, Runes and Basic Incantations.’”
“Perhaps, then” said Prince Dall, perceiving a gleam of light in his otherwise gloomy day, “you can make some sense of this.” He checked the paper to make sure it was wrong side up and pushed it across the table.
“Well, of course, we’re not supposed to practice until we’ve been certified,” the short, heavily bearded man said. He fixed his gaze on a distant point somewhere above and beyond Prince Dall’s head and squinted one eye as though he were trying to see s
omething in the cloudless sky. “Nonetheless,” he added quickly, “since we’re practically old friends, I might be of service for two gold sovereigns.”
Prince Dall sighed but gave him the two gold sovereigns anyway. The short, heavily bearded man picked up the riddle and studied it. “Ha!” he said. And then, “I thought as much.”
“Thought as much what?” asked Prince Dall.
“It’s the standard, old Prince of Rage riddle. He gives it to every prince he doesn’t feed immediately to Slither or drop through a crack in the castle floor into never-ending darkness.” The short, heavily bearded man waved the riddle in the air. “He must have enough of these things to wallpaper half the village.”
“Aside from that,” said Prince Dall peevishly, what does it mean?”
“It means that the tree is a princess. Everyone knows that. She was enchanted by an evil sorceress years ago. The tears she weeps turn to diamonds and every October her leaves turn to gold sovereigns and fall all over the place.” He couldn’t quite keep a note of envy from his voice as he added, “Terrible chore sweeping them up, I understand.”
The Diamond Tree Page 2