When Prince Marvel, with Nerle marching close behind, entered the great room, Terribus looked at him sharply a moment, and then bowed. And when he bowed the eye upon the top of his head also looked sharply at the intruders.
Then the king spoke, his voice sounding so sweet and agreeable that it almost shocked Nerle, who had expected to hear a roar like that from a wild beast.
“Why are you here?” asked Terribus.
“Partly by chance and partly from curiosity,” answered Prince Marvel. “No one in this island, except your own people, had ever seen the king of Spor; so, finding myself in your country, I decided to come here and have a look at you.”
The faces of the people who stood about the throne wore frightened looks at the unheard of boldness of this speech to their terrible monarch. But the king merely nodded and inquired:
“Since you have seen me, what do you think of me?”
“I am sorry you asked that question,” returned the prince; “for I must confess you are a very frightful-looking creature, and not at all agreeable to gaze upon.”
“Ha! you are honest, as well as frank,” exclaimed the king. “But that is the reason I do not leave my kingdom, as you will readily understand. And that is the reason I never permit strangers to come here, under penalty of death. So long as no one knows the King of Spor is a monster people will not gossip about my looks, and I am very sensitive regarding my personal appearance. You will perhaps understand that if I could have chosen I should have been born beautiful instead of ugly.”
“I certainly understand that. And permit me to say I wish you were beautiful. I shall probably dream of you for many nights,” added the prince.
“Not for many,” said King Terribus, quietly. “By coming here you have chosen death, and the dead do not dream.”
“Why should I die?” inquired Prince Marvel, curiously.
“Because you have seen me. Should I allow you to go away you would tell the world about my ugly face. I do not like to kill you, believe me; but you must pay the penalty of your rashness--you and the man behind you.”
Nerle smiled at this; but whether from pride at being called a man or in pleasurable anticipation of the sufferings to come I leave you to guess.
“Will you allow me to object to being killed?” asked the prince.
“Certainly,” answered the king, courteously. “I expect you to object. It is natural. But it will do you no good.”
Then Terribus turned to an attendant and commanded:
“Send hither the Fool-Killer.”
At this Prince Marvel laughed outright.
“The Fool-Killer!” he cried; “surely your Majesty does me little credit. Am I, then, a fool?”
“You entered my kingdom uninvited,” retorted the king, “and you tell me to my face I am ugly. Moreover, you laugh when I condemn you to death. From this I conclude the Fool-Killer is the proper one to execute you. Behold!”
Marvel turned quickly, to find a tall, stalwart man standing behind him. His features were strong but very grave, and the prince caught a look of compassion in his eye as their gaze met. His skin was fair and without blemish, a robe of silver cloth fell from his shoulders, and in his right hand he bore a gleaming sword.
“Well met!” cried Marvel, heartily, as he bowed to the Fool-Killer. “I have often heard your name mentioned, but ‘tis said in the world that you are a laggard in your duty.”
“Had I my way,” answered the Fool-Killer, “my blade would always drip. It is my master, yonder, who thwarts my duty.” And he nodded toward King Terribus.
“Then you should exercise your right on him, and cleave the ugly head from his shoulders,” declared the prince.
“Nay, unless I interfered with the Fool-Killer,” said the king, “I should soon have no subjects left to rule; for at one time or another they all deserve the blade.”
“Why, that may be true enough,” replied Prince Marvel. “But I think, under such circumstances, your Fool-Killer is a needless servant. So I will rid you of him in a few moments.”
With that he whipped out his sword and stood calmly confronting the Fool-Killer, whose grave face never changed in expression as he advanced menacingly upon his intended victim. The blades clashed together, and that of the Fool-Killer broke short off at the hilt. He took a step backward, stumbled and fell prone upon the rocky floor, while Prince Marvel sprang forward and pressed the point of his sword against his opponent’s breast.
“Hold!” cried the king, starting to his feet. “Would you slay my Fool-Killer? Think of the harm you would do the world!”
“But he is laggard and unfaithful to his calling!” answered the prince, sternly.
“Nevertheless, if he remove but one fool a year he is a benefit to mankind,” declared the king. “Release him, I pray you!”
Then the victor withdrew his sword and stood aside, while the Fool-Killer slowly got upon his feet and bowed humbly before the king.
“Go!” shouted Terribus, his eye flashing angrily. “You have humiliated me before my enemy. As an atonement see that you kill me a fool a day for sixty days.”
Hearing this command, many of the people about the throne began to tremble; but the king paid no attention to their fears, and the Fool-Killer bowed again before his master and withdrew from the chamber.
9. The Royal Dragon of Spor
“Now,” said Terribus, regarding the prince gloomily, “I must dispose of you in another way.”
For a moment he dropped his scarlet head in thought. Then he turned fiercely upon his attendants.
“Let the Wrestler come forward!” he shouted, as loudly as his mild voice would carry.
Instantly a tall blackamoor advanced from the throng and cast off his flowing robe, showing a strong figure clad only in a silver loincloth.
“Crack me this fellow’s bones!” commanded Terribus.
“I beg your Majesty will not compel me to touch him,” said Prince Marvel, with a slight shudder; “for his skin is greasy, and will soil my hands. Here, Nerle!” he continued, turning to his esquire, “dispose of this black man, and save me the trouble.”
Nerle laughed pleasantly. The black was a powerfully built man, and compared with Nerle and the prince, who had but the stature of boys, he towered like a very giant in size. Nevertheless, Nerle did not hesitate to spring upon the Wrestler, who with a quick movement sent the boy crashing against the stone pavement.
Nerle was much bruised by the fall, and as he painfully raised himself to his feet a great lump was swelling behind his left ear, where his head had struck the floor, and he was so dizzy that the room seemed swimming around him in a circle. But he gave a happy little laugh, and said to the prince, gratefully:
“Thank you very much, my master! The fall is hurting me delightfully. I almost feel as if I could cry, and that would be joy indeed!”
“Well,” answered the prince, with a sigh, “I see I must get my hands greased after all”--for the black’s body had really been greased to enable him to elude the grasp of his opponents.
But Marvel made a quick leap and seized the Wrestler firmly around the waist. The next moment, to the astonishment of all, the black man flew swiftly into the air, plunged through one of the open windows high up in the wall, and disappeared from view. When the king and his people again turned their wondering eyes upon the prince he was wiping his hands carefully upon a silk handkerchief.
At this sight a pretty young girl, who stood near the throne, laughed aloud, and the sound of her laughter made King Terribus very angry.
“Come here!” he commanded, sternly. The girl stepped forward, her face now pale and frightened, while tear-drops trembled upon the lashes that fringed her downcast eyes. “You have dared to laugh at the humiliation of your king,” said Terribus, his horrid face more crimson than ever, “and as atonement I command that you drink of the poisoned cup.”
Instantly a dwarf came near, bearing a beautiful golden goblet in his crooked hands.
“Drink!”
he said, an evil leer upon his face.
The girl well knew this goblet contained a vile poison, one drop of which on her tongue would cause death; so she hesitated, trembling and shrinking from the ordeal.
Prince Marvel looked into her sweet face with pitying eyes, and stepping quickly to her side, took her hand in his.
“Now drink!” he said, smiling upon her; “the poison will not hurt you.”
She drank obediently, while the dwarf chuckled with awful glee and the king looked on eagerly, expecting her to fall dead at his feet. But instead the girl stood upright and pressed Marvel’s hand, looking gratefully into his face.
“You are a fairy!” she whispered, so low that no one else heard her voice. “I knew that you would save me.”
“Keep my secret,” whispered the prince in return, and still holding her hand he led her back to her former place.
King Terribus was almost wild with rage and disappointment, and his elephant nose twisted and squirmed horribly.
“So you dare to thwart my commands, do you!” he cried, excitedly. “Well, we shall soon see which of us is the more powerful. I have decreed your death--and die you shall!”
For a moment his eye roved around the chamber uncertainly. Then he shouted, suddenly:
“Ho, there! Keepers of the royal menagerie--appear!”
Three men entered the room and bowed before the king. They were of the Gray Men of the mountains, who had followed Prince Marvel and Nerle through the rocky passes.
“Bring hither the Royal Dragon,” cried the king, “and let him consume these strangers before my very eyes!”
The men withdrew, and presently was heard a distant shouting, followed by a low rumbling sound, with groans, snorts, roars and a hissing like steam from the spout of a teakettle.
The noise and shouting drew nearer, while the people huddled together like frightened sheep; and then suddenly the doors flew open and the Royal Dragon advanced to the center of the room.
This creature was at once the pride and terror of the Kingdom of Spor. It was more than thirty feet in length and covered everywhere with large green scales set with diamonds, making the dragon, when it moved, a very glittering spectacle. Its eyes were as big as pie-plates, and its mouth--when wide opened--fully as large as a bath-tub. Its tail was very long and ended in a golden ball, such as you see on the top of flagstaffs. Its legs, which were as thick as those of an elephant, had scales which were set with rubies and emeralds. It had two monstrous, big ears and two horns of carved ivory, and its teeth were also carved into various fantastic shapes--such as castles, horses’ heads, chinamen and griffins--so that if any of them broke it would make an excellent umbrella handle.
The Royal Dragon of Spor came crawling into the throne-room rather clumsily, groaning and moaning with every step and waving its ears like two blankets flying from a clothesline.
The king looked on it and frowned.
“Why are you not breathing fire and brimstone?” he demanded, angrily.
“Why, I was caught out in a gale the other night,” returned the Dragon, rubbing the back of its ear with its left front paw, as it paused and looked at the king, “and the wind put out my fire.”
“Then why didn’t you light it again?” asked Terribus, turning on the keepers.
“We--we were out of matches, your Majesty!” stammered the trembling Gray Men.
“So--ho!” yelled the king, and was about to order the keepers beheaded; but just then Nerle pulled out his match-box, lit one of the matches, and held it in front of the Dragon’s mouth. Instantly the creature’s breath caught fire; and it began to breathe flames a yard in length.
“That’s better,” sighed the Dragon, contentedly. “I hope your Majesty is now satisfied.”
“No,--I am not satisfied!” declared King Terribus. “Why do you not lash your tail?”
“Ah, I can’t do that!” replied the Dragon. “It’s all stiffened up with rheumatism from the dampness of my cave. It hurts too much to lash it.”
“Well, then, gnash your teeth!” commanded the king.
“Tut--tut!” answered the Dragon, mildly; “I can’t do that, either; for since you had them so beautifully carved it makes my teeth ache to gnash them.”
“Well, then, what are you good for?” cried the king, in a fury.
“Don’t I look awful? Am I not terrible to gaze on?” inquired the Dragon, proudly, as it breathed out red and yellow flames and made them curl in circles around its horns. “I guess there’s no need for me to suggest terror to any one that happens to see me,” it added, winking one of the pie-plate eyes at King Terribus.
The king looked at the monster critically, and it really seemed to him that it was a frightful thing to behold. So he curbed his anger and said, in his ordinary sweet voice:
“I have called you here to destroy these two strangers.”
“How?” asked the Dragon, looking upon Prince Marvel and Nerle with interest.
“I am not particular,” answered the king. “You may consume them with your fiery breath, or smash them with your tail, or grind them to atoms between your teeth, or tear them to pieces with your claws. Only, do hurry up and get it over with!”
“Hm-m-m!” said the Dragon, thoughtfully, as if it didn’t relish the job; “this one isn’t Saint George, is it?”
“No, no!” exclaimed the king, irritably; “it’s Prince Marvel. Do get to work as soon as possible.”
“Prince Marvel--Prince Marvel,” repeated the Dragon. “Why, there isn’t a prince in the whole world named Marvel! I’m pretty well posted on the history of royal families, you know. I’m afraid he’s Saint George in disguise.”
“Isn’t your name Prince Marvel?” inquired the king, turning to the boyish-looking stranger.
“It is,” answered Marvel.
“Well, it’s mighty strange I’ve never heard of you,” persisted the Dragon. “But tell me, please, how would you prefer to be killed?”
“Oh, I’m not going to be killed at all,” replied the prince, laughing.
“Do you hear that, Terribus?” asked the Dragon, turning to the king; “he says he isn’t going to be killed.”
“But I say he is!” cried Terribus. “I have decreed his death.”
“But do you suppose I’m going to kill a man against his will?” inquired the Dragon, in a reproachful voice; “and such a small man, too! Do you take me for a common assassin--or a murderer?”
“Do you intend to obey my orders?” roared the king.
“No, I don’t; and that’s flat!” returned the Dragon, sharply. “It’s time for me to take my cough medicine; so if you’ve nothing more to say I’ll go back to my cave.”
“Go, go, go!” shrieked the king, stamping his foot in passion. “You’ve outlived your usefulness! You’re a coward! You’re a traitor! You’re a--a--a--”
“I’m a dragon and a gentleman!” answered the monster, proudly, as the king paused for lack of a word; “and I believe I know what’s proper for dragons to do and what isn’t. I’ve learned wisdom from my father, who got into trouble with Saint George, and if I fought with this person who calls himself Prince Marvel, I’d deserve to be a victim of your Fool-Killer. Oh, I know my business, King Terribus; and if you knew yours, you’d get rid of this pretended prince as soon as possible!”
With this speech he winked at Prince Marvel, turned soberly around and crawled from the room. One of the keepers got too near and the Dragon’s breath set fire to his robe, the flames being with difficulty extinguished; and the gold ball on the end of the Dragon’s tail struck a giant upon his shins and made him dance and howl in pain.
But, aside from these slight accidents, the monster managed to leave the throne-room without undue confusion, and every one, including the king, seemed glad to be rid of him.
10. Prince Marvel Wins His Fight
When the door had closed on the Royal Dragon, King Terribus turned again to Prince Marvel, while his crimson face glowed with embarrassment, and hi
s front eye rolled with baffled rage as he thought how vain had been all his efforts to kill this impudent invader of his domains.
But his powers were by no means exhausted. He was a mighty king--the mightiest of all in the Enchanted Island, he believed--and ways to destroy his enemies were numerous.
“Send for a hundred of my Gray Men!” he suddenly cried; and a courtier ran at once to summon them. The Gray Men would obey his orders without question, he well knew. They were silent, stubborn, quick, and faithful to their king. Terribus had but to command and his will would be obeyed.
They entered the room so quietly that Nerle never knew they were there until he turned and found the hundred gray ones standing close together in the center of the hall. Then Prince Marvel came to Nerle’s side and whispered something in his ear.
“Will you obey my orders?” they heard the king ask. And the Gray Men, with their eyes fixed upon their master, nodded all their hundred heads and put their hands upon the dangerous three-tined forks that were stuck in every one of the hundred belts.
Prince Marvel handed one end of a coiled rope to Nerle, and then they both sprang forward and ran around the spot where the hundred Gray Men stood huddled together. Then they were pulled closer together than before--closer, and still closer--for the prince and Nerle had surrounded them with the rope and were tying the two ends together in a tight knot. The rope cut into the waists of those on the outside, and they pressed inward against their fellows until there was scarcely space to stick a knife-blade between any two of them. When the prince had tied the rope firmly King Terribus, who had been looking on amazed, saw that his hundred Gray Men were fastened together like a bundle of kindling-wood, and were unable to stir hand or foot.
And, while he still gazed open-mouthed at the strange sight, Prince Marvel tilted the bundle of men up on its edge and rolled it out of the door. It went rolling swiftly through the courtyard and bounded down the castle steps, where the rope broke and the men fell sprawling in all directions on the marble walk.
King Terribus sighed, for such treatment of his Gray Men, whom he dearly loved, made him very unhappy.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 266