A Tale Without a Name Read online

  “And why don’t you work now, too?”

  The man sighed.

  “I grew tired of working for no reason and with no sense of purpose,” he said with heavy weariness.

  The eyes of the Prince were suddenly ablaze.

  “Well then, work now, for a reason and for a purpose,” he said, and his heart was beating thunderously hard in his chest.

  “Do you think I would be sitting here if I could find a purpose?!” answered the man.

  “Nor would we, old Master Miserlix,” said a youth, with the fiery sheen of wine in his eyes. “Offer us some good profit, and you will see with what fervour we will work!”

  “For profit or for a purpose?” asked the Prince.

  “It is all the same.”

  “No, it is not all the same,” said the Prince, inflamed with great fire, “for I shall give work to any one of you who wants it. Yet it shall be for a great and sacred purpose, which will yield you no profit.”

  “You are trying to be funny, countryman!” said the youth, laughing.

  “I am not trying to be funny at all. The enemy is right in our midst, marching in our lands!”

  The youth rose, leant across the table and looked intently at the Prince.

  “What work are you proposing we do?” he asked seriously.

  “The work that is the duty of every citizen at a time of national danger.”

  “You propose to us then to become soldiers and get ourselves killed for the sake of the ‘Emperor’s New Clothes’?”

  “Not for the ‘Emperor’s New Clothes’, but for king and country!”

  “Oh, don’t bother me with that!” said the youth, his eyes now ablaze. “‘Country’ is but an empty word, and the King, this king, is but a King Log!”

  The insult stung the Prince sharply, burning like a whiplash.

  He rose from his chair and, shaking bodily with indignation, he replied:

  “The ‘country’ is your land, and this king is your leader!”

  A general burst of roaring laughter greeted his words.

  “Our provinces over here are secure; the enemy cannot get across the river!” said someone, his voice hoarse from wine-drinking. “And those who happen to live on the other side, well, let them take care of themselves.”

  “My, what a leader we do have!” cried another. “Hiding behind his windows, that’s how he will lead us to war!”

  “And without weapons!” added, sniggering, a third.

  “Let the King come out first, and show us how to fight!” shouted another.

  “And if the King comes out, I will myself make weapons for him!” said old Master Miserlix.

  Pale as death, arms crossed, the King’s son stood up straight in their midst.

  “Old Master Miserlix,” he said in a thunderous voice, “I have your word! The King is too old by now, and he cannot bear the hardship. Yet his son will come out himself, and you shall make him weapons!”

  “Well said,” said the old man. “Provided, that is, that the Prince comes out himself.”

  “Let the Prince come out,” said the youth with the fiery eyes, “and then let us all follow him.”

  The Prince turned to him, and looked at him in the face.

  “Remember what you have said, when the time comes,” he said, his whole being in turmoil; then, turning to the other man: “Old Master Miserlix,” he said, “your brother has already started forging the weapons that the Prince will need in order to venture forth with the army. Will you not help him?”

  The old man was taken aback.

  “Do you mean it?” he asked.

  “I most certainly do,” replied the Prince. “Whenever you wish, come to his house and see for yourself.”

  He then went out, without looking back.

  The old man ran after him, and caught up with him a few paces down the road.

  “Won’t you explain yourself and your words?” he asked.

  “I am the King’s son,” said the Prince. “I have no florins to pay you with, but I ask you, in the name of our country, to make weapons for me!”

  Old Master Miserlix was thunderstruck. He fell down on his knees and remained speechless.

  “So, will you come?” asked the Prince.

  “Command me, my lord!” muttered the old man. “I am yours!”

  The Prince raised him to his feet.

  “Have you got your tools with you?” he asked.

  “I have!”

  “Then come along to your brother’s. We must not waste a single hour, and Miserlix awaits us.”

  Together they went to the blacksmith’s house. He had indeed been expecting them, although the hour was late by then. The street urchin alone had eaten and was lying fast asleep in a corner of the back kitchen.

  “Tomorrow we shall have more such workers,” said Miserlix smiling. “On our way back, we met with one or two other little beggars like him, and the young one told them how he had earned his supper through his work, so I told them to come too. It is to our advantage,” Miserlix continued. “While they bring up the ore from the mines, I can work here, so no time is wasted.”

  They sat at the table. The Prince would not stay, however. He only asked for a slice of bread to eat on the way to the schoolmaster’s house, where he still intended to study his letters, before beginning to work with the two master craftsmen.

  The schoolmaster’s house was far away. He went there running, studied hard, did all his writing, and, still running, he returned to Miserlix’s house, where for hours on end they worked the iron, which came red hot out of the smithy furnace.

  At midnight, the two brothers abandoned both hammer and lathe.

  Miserlix wanted to offer the Prince his own bed. But he did not accept it. He had to go, he said, back to the palace, to learn the news.

  Hurriedly he took once more the way to the capital. But he was so worn out that two or three times he had to sit down on the ground to rest. Sleep would overcome him then, and, so as not to yield to it, he would get up and resume his running.

  With great effort, he reached the roots of the mountain, and started for the palace. He tried to run, but he was vanquished by exhaustion. He sat on a stone to catch his breath, his eyes closed of their own volition, and he fell into a deep slumber.

  XI

  Constable or Woodsman?

  THIS IS WHERE Little Irene found him, first thing in the morning, on her way to the woods.

  She woke him up, and they went down the slope together.

  He asked her if she had any more recent news to give him.

  “No,” she replied. “The enemy has not yet been sighted by the river.”

  “May God’s will be with us!” said the Prince, and his whole heart was in his words. “For us, every hour is to our advantage.”

  He killed rabbits and game birds with his sling, and divided them into two lots. He also divided the eggs, and took half in his scarf.

  “Down below, at Miserlix’s house, a great table will be set today, and I must take food there too,” he told his sister.

  And he recounted to her how he had gone to find Miserlix’s brother, who was now also working to make weapons, and how some street urchins were to come and work in the mines, to be paid with the food that he would bring them.

  “How lovely!” said Little Irene, deeply moved. “This way you will be feeding quite a number of hungry people, teaching them at the same time to work so that they will no longer be beggars.”

  “It is exactly what I am striving for,” replied the Prince simply. “To teach the people to work once more.”

  He bade his sister farewell, and ran swiftly back to town.

  He went to the schoolmaster’s, where he had his lesson, leaving two birds by way of payment. Then he headed for Miserlix’s house.

  He found everyone hard at work.

  On all four of the room’s surrounding walls there hung several newly forged weapons.

  “This is a splendid start!” said the Prince, delighted
. “The enemy has not yet been sighted. Courage! The weapons shall be made.”

  And after handing the game to Miserlix’s daughter, he rolled up his sleeves, and took up the hammer and the tongs.

  All of a sudden, however, screams were heard outside.

  The Prince abandoned his tools, rushed out, and saw one of the boys from the mines fighting valiantly to save his loaded handcart from two thieves.

  The Prince recognized at once the inhospitable man who had chased him and Little Irene away from his doorstep; also the boy who worked for him, and who had stolen Miserlix’s watch.

  “You scoundrel!” he shouted, and threw himself at him, grabbing him by the throat and laying him flat on the earth.

  Miserlix, hearing the screaming, came out too, just as the man’s boy was sneaking away to the woods. He chased him, caught him, and brought him back, kicking and screaming.

  “Hand me some rope!” cried the Prince.

  And with Miserlix’s help, he tied their hands behind their backs; they then all went back to the smithy, pushing onwards in front of them the two thieves.

  The Prince left the young thief outside, with old Master Miserlix to guard him.

  “What you do is shamefully wrong!” cried the thief. “Why have you trussed up our hands as though we were criminals, instead of giving this whippersnapper a good thrashing with the cane for trying to harm honest and peaceful citizens?”

  “We shall see about that later,” said the Prince. “Now tell me your name.”

  Suddenly the thief recognized the Prince’s face and breathed a sigh of relief. What might he have to fear from a young greenhorn like him?

  “Lor’ bless us!” he said delightedly. “It’s you, isn’t it, my lad, you came a day or so ago and knocked at my door? And how is the young girl who was with you then? Would she be your sister, perchance?”

  “That too shall be left for later. Now tell me your name.”

  “Scallywag is my name. But I don’t see why you ask me the questions that you should be asking that wastrel who tried to damage our property…”

  “I shall ask him too, later. Now tell me why you were trying to take hold of the loaded handcart?”

  “Oh, but this is not the way things are, my good lad,” said the man, with a foxy smile. “Please allow me to tell you how it all happened. I had been working in the woods, digging and taking out… those things, what d’ya call ’em… them stones. And my boy was there too, helping me. So then, once I had filled my cart, I told my boy to take it home…”

  “What did you want the stones for?” asked the Prince.

  “To build a chicken coop, bless your heart, because my old one has fallen to ruin. Well then, I heard screams, I went outside, and saw this boy here, who was set upon stealing the stones from my son, and I threw him on the ground to save my own. There, my good lad, that’s how the story goes, bless you, my boy. Do now untie my hands, for they have gone numb and blue bound up like this.”

  “Stay there for now, we have someone else to hear before we can untie you,” said the Prince.

  And he called now old Master Miserlix, who had been polishing a sword while guarding the thief boy, so as not to waste time.

  “Bring him in, old man,” he said.

  “What is your name and what happened?” he asked the boy.

  “My name is Mitsos,” replied the boy, trembling and secretly making a sign to his father that he had no idea what to say.

  The Prince caught sight of the sign, and forced Scallywag to turn his back to the boy.

  “Tell them, my boy, weren’t you going to…” began the thief.

  “You will keep silent, or I shall have you gagged!” shouted the Prince.

  “Oh, but my good lad, I only want my boy to tell the truth, so you can believe that he was going—”

  Yet, before he could speak another word, Miserlix had muzzled his mouth with a rag.

  “Yes,” said Mitsos, thinking that he had understood his father’s meaning, “I was going to help the boy pull the loaded handcar—”

  With a thump of his foot his father stopped him short.

  “I mean I was going to take the stones to town to sell them to the master blacksm—”

  Another thump of the foot, and the boy completely lost his wits, bursting into tears.

  “Enough!” said the Prince.

  And he called in the boy from the mine:

  “Tell us what happened, Thanos?”

  “I was returning from the mineshafts, with the ore stones,” said Thanos, “and this one came out of the woods and grabbed hold of the handcart. I shouted to him that this was another man’s property, when the older one came too, threw me to the ground, and he would have taken the handcart from me if you had not arrived at the scene.”

  “Did you hear that, Master Scallywag?” said the Prince. “You did not know of course that the handcart belonged to us, and that this boy works in our workshop, or else you would have conjured up some other story to tell us. And you, Mitsos,” he continued, turning to the thief boy, “now that you have had the good fortune to cross paths with Master Miserlix again, won’t you return to him the watch that you have been keeping for some days now in your breast pocket?”

  Everyone was confounded by the Prince’s words. Scallywag alone understood; his knees then failed him, and he collapsed on a chair.

  The Prince took the watch and its chain from the thief’s pocket, and returned them to Miserlix.

  “My watch!” exclaimed the blacksmith with delight. “How did it come to be in this boy’s pocket?”

  In a few words, the Prince recounted all that he had heard and seen from behind the loose pile of rubble at the back of the thief’s house.

  “And now,” he said, “forwards! March!”

  He led them, arms tied behind their backs, to prison, and found the jailor chatting at the door with a young man.

  With displeasure the Prince recognized the drunken youth with the wine-glazed eyes, who had uttered such insults against the King in the tavern.

  He too recognized him, and asked sarcastically: “Hey there, countryman! So then, has the King’s son come out yet?”

  The Prince did not answer. He asked for the keys and the jailor handed them to him, bowing all the way to the ground.

  He crossed the square to the other side where the prison cells stood, opened the door, and locked the thieves in.

  The youth and the jailor stared at him as he went.

  “Tell me one thing, why did you bow so deeply when you handed him the keys?” asked the youth. “Who is he?”

  “I don’t know,” replied the jailor. “Only he made Master Faintheart take Miserlix out of prison, when it had been Faintheart himself who had sentenced him.”

  “My, you don’t say!” said the youth.

  And he went on contemptuously:

  “He must be some palace lackey or other… Same as the rest of them…”

  “Not at all!” said the jailor. “It was a palace man who asked for Miserlix’s jail sentence. Master Faintheart who sentenced an innocent man had sold himself heart and soul to the palace men. He, though!… You should have seen him! He was driving Master Faintheart with a whip, and he forced him to take the innocent man out of prison.”

  “With a what, did you say?”

  “With a whip!” repeated the jailor.

  The Prince locked the prison door, brought back the keys and turned to go.

  “Who can he be?” muttered the youth.

  And from a distance, he followed him.

  Going past the house of Illstar the master builder, the Prince decided to go up and ask him whether he had set himself down to work yet.

  “The master builder is not upstairs,” shouted the cobbler, who had his workshop around the corner. “He is down by the river.”

  “This is good!” the Prince thought joyfully to himself. “So, he has already started work then!”

  He turned towards the river, but as he was passing the woods he hea
rd voices.

  He entered the woods, and amongst the trees he saw some youths who were struggling to pull an enormous log, all trussed up with ropes. But the log was heavy, and they could not make it yield an inch.

  “Where do you wish to take this?” asked the Prince.

  “To the river, where the foreman wants it,” they replied.

  “It is impossible to drag it like this. It is too big.”

  “And what are we to do? The foreman needs it. We shall be spitting blood by the end of it, but drag it we shall.”

  “You will break your ropes, and still you shall have achieved nothing. We must find some other way. You need wheels…”

  The lumbermen laughed.

  “And that is just what we do not have!” they said.

  The Prince took a few moments to think.

  “Hand me your axe,” he said.

  And removing his jerkin, the Prince fashioned three rollers. These they placed under the log. All three of them harnessed themselves with the ropes, and together they pulled. The log rolled forward, as though on wheels.

  “And when the log rolls forward, beyond the last roller, you must take that one and put it again in front of the log,” the Prince told them. “In this fashion, you will be able to roll it along all the way to the river.”

  The two young men thanked him, overjoyed.

  “You cannot know how much easier you have made our task,” they said, relieved, “and how happy the foreman will be now that the transport will move faster.”

  “Who is your foreman?” asked the Prince.

  “Illstar the master builder.”

  “And how is it that you work for him? I thought he no longer had apprentices.”

  “And he didn’t. He had been working alone since his affairs went bad,” replied one of the young men. “He had even closed his workshop down. Only he must have received some really fine commission, for he sold his house and everything he had, and hired us all, every wood craftsman in town, with good wages, so that we might work night and day.”

  “Here’s to him, here’s to a good countryman!” cried the Prince with fervour.

  And he ran down to the river.

  As he was hastening ahead, he stumbled on a man who stood there unnoticed.