by Howard Pyle
“And what happened then?” said David.
“I will tell you,” said the old woman.
The two wandered along the shore for a long, long distance, until they came at last to a country where men lived. There was no king and no queen to that country, and as this man and woman stood head and shoulders taller than the men and women of the common world, and as they were so fair and beautiful, and because their faces shone as with white light, the people of the city took them for their king and queen.
By and by the two died, and their son became king. Then he died and his son was king. Then he died and his son was king, and so on for generations and generations.
But the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book were lost. And the garden stood utterly deserted.
For after the man and the woman had fled, there came one day the dreadful Iron Man of the Iron Castle, before whose face even the little birds fled away. He found the Box and the Book lying under a tree and took them away with him; and from that time the eyes of man have never seen them again. But nevertheless this was known: that some day — aye, some day — a hero would appear who would bring back the Wonder-Box to the earth. That time there should be a princess, and after the hero had found the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book and had brought them back to the earth again, he should marry her, and by and by should himself be king over that land.
And this, little child, is the story of the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book.
And is it true? True? Aye, it is true. At least it was true one time, and thanks to great A and little izzard it will he true again sometime to come.
But David sat motionlessly gazing at the wrinkled face of the old woman, and his eyes shone and his cheeks burned like fire. It had come into his mind to wonder if it could be possible that he was to be the hero who should bring hack the Wonder-Box to the brown earth again? could it be possible? He did not dare to ask the question, but the old woman answered it without being asked. “Yes, David,” said she, and her voice was very, very sweet, “you are the man.”
“Then let me go and find it,” cried out David.
The old woman laughed. “Patience, David,” she said, “patience, patience. To-morrow morning you shall set out to do your work. To-night you must sleep and rest yourself. But, tell me, how will you set about to find the Iron Castle of the Iron Man?”
“I do not know,” said David.
“Then I will tell you,” said the old woman. “To-morrow you shall set foot to the westward. You will journey all day, but toward evening you will come to a rocky desert, and there you will find a fountain of water. Every day the Black Horse who lives in the sky comes to that fountain to drink and to refresh himself. He alone can carry you to the Iron Castle of the Iron Man. To-morrow, before you leave, I will give you a bridle with a golden hit. If with it you can bridle the Black Horse, then you will have tamed him, and will be his master.”
“I wish it were to-morrow,” said David.
The old woman laughed again. “Time enough for that, David,” said she.
XII. The Black Winged Horse
THE NEXT MORNING the old woman of the cliff gave to David a bridle studded with silver bosses, and the bit that hung from the bridle was of pure gold. “Take it,” she said; “with it alone you can tame the Black Winged Horse.”
David took it and thanked her, and then started off upon his way. The day was bright and lovely, and David, turning his face to the westward, strode across the field away from the ocean and inland. The sun had hardly yet arisen, and all the earth was bright and filled with the sparkling sheen of dew, that, in the slanting brightness, turned the spider webs everywhere into little fairy sheets of silver. The few small trees that stood out solitary here and there upon the rolling downs did not move a single leaf, but remained still and motionless in the motionless air. Everywhere the birds were chanting a jubilant melody. The multitudinous song seemed to fill all the air near and afar.
David swelled out his breast, drinking in deep draughts of the sweet morning air as he strode along. He turned and looked hack. The old woman of the cliff was standing looking after him, a red petticoat, a gleam of fire in the misty brightness of the morning. He waved his hand toward her, and she waved her hand toward him. Then he turned again and strode away to the far-reaching westward.
He was almost the only man who had ever seen that old woman with the eyes of flesh, and he never saw her again.
But thus it was that David set out upon that journey all in the dewy freshness of the morning, with the song of the birds ringing in his ears, and the fragrance of the early day keen in his nostrils. Yes; and so do we all set forth upon the task that lies before us with buoyant and lusty joyousness of hope filling all the heart.
The day grew fuller and fuller, the sun rose higher and higher, and shone hotter and hotter until it heat down fiercely upon David’s head. And now he had left the high and windy downs, and all around him lay hot, reeking fenlands with hogs and quags, and here and there a stunted pollard willow. Now there was no song of birds, but only now and then the deep bull-like bassoon of a great frog hidden under the hank amid the rushes and the arrow-heads. Now and then a heron arose and flapped away in slow and heavy flight. The sweat ran down David’s face in streams, and ever and anon he lifted his hat and wiped the trickling drops away with his sleeve.
So it was that he plodded along his way across the oozy fenland, with the hot sun heating down upon him. So do we all toil upon our task when maybe it is half-way done.
The sun began to slant down into the western sky, and now it shone full in his face. He had eaten his noon-day bread, but he was parched with thirst. For now he had left even the fenlands behind, and was walking across a wide and boundless stretch of rocks and boulders and round stones. All was silent, all was dead except now and then when a lizard or a great fat, black cricket would dart across the path from rock to rock. David was very weary, for the round stones slipped and rolled away from under his feet.
So he drew near the end of his journey. So we all of us draw near to the end of our labor, weary, thirsty, stumbling as we go.
The sun was yet two hours high when David, from the top of a naked and rocky hill, saw the fountain of crystal water lying, a bright fragment, in the valley beneath him — that wonderful fountain of water whence the great Black Winged Horse drinks every evening, and so refreshes himself before he again takes his flight to those lofty altitudes of the still blue heavens where he forever circles, dips, hovers in airy and ambient brightness.
David, when he saw the fountain, shouted and leaped and ran down the stony hill to where the little pool lay like a fragment of heaven amid the black, lichen-covered rocks. He plunged his face and hands and arms into the pool, and drank deep draughts of its crystal coolness. It seemed to fill his veins with fresh strength and his soul with a renewed life. Again and again he drank, and then he paused, breathing deep and full.
As he so paused, hanging over the mirror-like surface of the little pool, watching it as its rippled bosom stilled again into its first glassy smoothness, he suddenly saw reflected in the surface of the water a something that seemed to be a great bird hovering with wings outspread, high in the air above him. He looked up, and there against the blue sky overhead, far, far away, he saw, not a bird, but a wonderful winged horse, circling around and around on wide-spread wings in slow, eagle-like flight against the profound upper depths of fathomless sky.
It was the Winged Horse, and David knew that it must now he coming to drink at the fountain, for already the sun was growing red, and falling toward the west in the last hours of day. He caught up the bridle and flung it over his arm, and then drew back and hid himself among the dark lichen-covered rocks.
The Black Horse circled nearer and nearer, and though its body was black, its wings glistened as white as snow. It circled nearer and nearer, sweeping around and around in narrowing flight, until at last it hovered darkly over the spring of water. Then with its wings reaching high and quivering, it settled s
lowly, slowly to the earth, until it rested as lightly as a feather upon the solid rock beneath its feet. Still it held its wings poised for a moment or two, then folded them rustling across its back. Then it bent its stately head, and began to drink great draughts of water from the fountain.
Then, quick as a flash, David leaped out and upon it, and before the horse could spring away, he had clutched it by the forelock. Then began a mighty struggle between the horse and the man. It was well for David that he himself had first drunk strength from that fountain, for otherwise he never could have kept his hold, and would have been dashed to pieces under those iron hoofs. For the horse struck at him with its hoofs, and beat at him with its glistening pinions. But it could not shake him loose, and he still kept his hold, clinging fast to it. It tried to fly away into the air, but David’s weight held it to the earth. Then it tried to thrust him against the rocks, and to crush him between it and them, but David, stooping suddenly forward, slipped the golden bit into its mouth and between its teeth. Then in an instant all was over. The horse stood trembling and quivering, its body covered with foam, and its wide-spread nostrils as red as blood. It was tamed, and it bowed its head acknowledging its master. Then after a little while it spoke with a voice as plain as that of a Christian man.
“What would you have of me, master?”
“I would have you take me to the Iron Castle of the Iron Man,” said David.
“Then mount upon my back, and I will take you thither, master. But woe is me that it must be so, for you are the first man who has ever sat astride of my back.”
David laid his hand upon its back and grasped a crop of its mane. Then, with a leap, he sprang upon it.
XIII. The Iron Castle
ΤΗE BLACK HORSE struck its feet upon the ground, and spreading its hovering wings, it sped away, skimming along the surface of the earth. It did not rise into the air, for now it could not do so.
That wonderful Black Winged Horse. So it is, little child; for though, when free of curb and hit, he may soar aloft, higher and higher, until he vanishes like a speck into the bosom of heaven, far, far away beyond the keenest sight, yet, when a man sits astride of his back, as David now sat astride of him, he cannot rise high. He may skim along the surface, riding dry-shod, maybe, over the oceans and the rivers of water, but never rising, when so burdened, higher than the height of a man above the ground.
So the Black Horse skimmed and sped away, carrying David upon its hack. Away and away, so swiftly that the dark earth seemed to slide away beneath it, and David had to hold his hat to keep it from flying from his head.
The sun sank, and the gray shadows of twilight seemed to rise upward from the earth, and to lie dim and misty in the hollows of the rocks. On and on sped the horse, on and on. The daylight faded and faded, and one bright star shone out keen and clear in the western sky.
“Look,” said the Black Horse, “do you see anything yet?”
David shaded his eyes with his hand. “I see,” said he, “far, far away, a speck against the sky.”
“It is not a speck,” said the Black Horse.
On and on it sped, and the red light in the sky melted into a thin gray, and one starry point after another began to prick through the vault of heaven.
“Look,” said the horse, “what do you see by now?”
Again David looked, striving to pierce the distance. “I see,” said he, “something against the sky, and it looks like a house, far, far away.”
“Aye,” said the Black Horse, “it is a house indeed!”
On and on sped the horse, and now the slow moon rose up red and round into the eastern sky. “Tell me,” said the horse at last, “what do you see now?”
This time David did not have to look before he spoke. “I see,” said he, “a great castle towering as black as ink against the sky, and it is all built of iron — a great dark, grim place, with the iron doors studded all over with bolts, and high up under the eaves a double row of windows with iron gratings shutting them in.”
“That,” said the Black Horse, “is the Iron Castle of the Iron Man.” And as it spoke, it stood at the castle gateway, and David leaped to the ground.
“Whistle when you want me again,” said the horse, “and I shall be here.” Then instantly it was gone, and David stood all alone, with nothing in front of him but the castle wall and the great door studded all over with iron bolts.
It took the Winged Horse three hours to make that journey from the fountain to the Iron Castle: it would have taken you a life-time — or David either, for the matter of that, hero though he was.
XIV. The Iron Man
DAVID LOOKED UP at the huge iron door. It was shut and locked.
Beside the doorway a great iron horn hung by a long iron chain from the wall. Over the horn were these words written in letters of red:
“Whatever man would enter here,
Must blow a blast both loud and clear.”
David set the horn to his lips and blew a blast so loud and long that it rang back again from the dark high walls and under the eaves and made his ears hum. Instantly there was a rumbling and a grumbling as though of distant thunder. The iron bolts within shot grating back and the huge iron door opened slowly, slowly, until it stood open wide. David entered, looking about him wondering.
It was a great, dark, empty room. The risen moon was now shining in at the grated windows, high overhead, and David could see above him a vast vaulted ceiling of iron, and under foot a pavement of iron. Everywhere were dust and cobwebs. Bats and owls were flying silently about in the gloom above. The white moonlight falling aslant upon the walls showed thereon figures of knights and ladies and dragons and giants painted in red. Beyond this great gloomy room was another just like it, and beyond that another and another, until David began to think that there was no end to them. He went on and on, until by and by he saw in the distance a dull glow of red light, and heard the sound of some one moving and the rattle of pans and dishes. He followed the sound until he came to a door. He pushed it open, and there was a room that looked like a great kitchen. In this room was nobody but an old woman and a black cat and a bright fire burning on the hearth. A huge table was spread for supper; on it was a pitcher of ale as big as a barrel, and a goblet as big as a bucket. There was a pewter plate as wide as a cart-wheel, a fork like a pitch fork, and a knife like a scythe. The old woman was busy roasting a whole sheep at the fire. She held a ladle in her hand, with which she hasted the roast as she turned it before the blaze. Hearing the door open, she turned and then she saw David standing. Down fell the ladle clattering upon the floor.
She stood staring and staring while David stood gazing hack at her. “Who are you?” said the old woman at last, “and whence come you?”
“I fan a Christian soul, mother,” said David, “and I come from the brown earth on the other side of the moon.”
“And what do you seek?” said the old woman. “I come,” said David, “to find the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book, and to take them back again to the brown earth, where they belong.”
“Alas!” said the old woman, “I am sorry for you, for, though you look like a hero rather than like a man, woe to you if the Iron Man comes and finds you here.”
“And who are you, mother?” said David.
“I do not know,” said the old woman, “except that I am a woman of flesh and blood. I have been here for so long that I have forgotten everything else. But I too am of flesh and blood — that much I do remember.”
“Then, if you are really of flesh and blood, you will help me, will you not, mother?” said David.
“I will do what I can, for the sake of flesh and blood,” said the old woman. “But hark!” she cried, suddenly, and she put her hand to her ear— “Hark! I hear him coming now!”
David listened, and then he also heard far away a sound of clashing and clattering and clanking and jingling, as of moving iron. He knew that it must be the coming of the Iron Man, and though his heart heat fast he squared his shou
lders to meet the giant.
But the old woman ran to him and caught him by the arm. “Quick!” she cried. “Here!” and she lifted up the lid of a great chest that stood in the corner.
David climbed into the chest, and the old woman shut the lid, leaving him lying in the dust and darkness. Jingle! clink! crash! bang! then the door opened, and in came the Iron Man, breathing fire and smoke out of his iron nostrils. David lifted the lid of the chest a little and saw him as he came.
The Iron Man went to the fire and took up the sheep, spit and all. He laid it upon the great plate on the table and cut it up as one would cut up a partridge. Then he sat down to the table and began to eat and drink, carving the meat with the iron knife as long as a scythe, and thrusting it into his mouth with the fork as large as a pitch fork, and drinking great draughts of ale out of the huge goblet. The ale hissed and sputtered as it went down his iron throat, and a white cloud of steam came out of his nostrils. Nothing was heard for a while but the clash and clatter of knife and fork and the champing and champing of the iron jaws of the Iron Man. All this David saw as he looked out from under the lid of the chest. The Iron Man was thrusting food into his mouth as one might put coal into the mouth of a furnace.
At last the meal was ended, and the Iron Man drew his chair up in front of the fire. “Here,” said he to the old woman, “take this key and bring me the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book. Maybe I can read the hook to-night.”
Then David, as he peered out from the chest, saw the old woman take the iron key and go to another great iron chest at the further side of the room. She opened the chest and brought out a box of burnished iron that gleamed red in the red fire-light. The box was locked with a golden key, and from the key there hung a fine golden chain. The old woman brought the box to the Iron Man, who opened it with the golden key, and took out a book as white as snow. It was the Know-All Book; the wonder of wonders! Yes; the Know-All Book, which alone could bring the joy of true happiness into the world, whence it had fled when those two — the man and the woman — fled from out the Garden of Paradise.