The Salt of Life.

Twilight Land

by Howard Pyle

Once upon a time there was a king who had three sons, and by the
time that the youngest prince had down upon his chin the king had
grown so old that the cares of the kingdom began to rest over-heavily
upon his shoulders. So he called his chief councillor and told him
that he was of a mind to let the princes reign in his stead. To the
son who loved him the best he would give the largest part of his
kingdom, to the son who loved him the next best the next part, and to
the son who loved him the least the least part. The old councillor
was very wise and shook his head, but the king's mind had long been
settled as to what he was about to do. So he called the princes to
him one by one and asked each as to how much he loved him.

"I love you as a mountain of gold," said the oldest prince, and
the king was very pleased that his son should give him such love.

"I love you as a mountain of silver," said the second prince,
and the king was pleased with that also.

But when the youngest prince was called, he did not answer at
first, but thought and thought. At last he looked up. "I love you,"
said he, "as I love salt."

When the king heard what his youngest son said he was filled
with anger. "What!" he cried, "do you love me no better than salt --
a stuff that is the most bitter of all things to the taste, and the
cheapest and the commonest of all things in the world? Away with you,
and never let me see your face again! Henceforth you are no son of
mine."

The prince would have spoken, but the king would not allow him,
and bade his guards thrust the young man forth from the room.

Now the queen loved the youngest prince the best of all her
sons, and when she heard how the king was about to drive him forth
into the wide world to shift for himself, she wept and wept. "Ah, my
son!" said she to him, "it is little or nothing that I have to give
you. Nevertheless, I have one precious thing. Here is a ring; take it
and wear it always, for so long as you have it upon your finger no
magic can have power over you."

Thus it was that the youngest prince set forth into the wide
world with little or nothing but a ring upon his finger.

For seven days he travelled on, and knew not where he was going
or whither his footsteps led. At the end of that time he came to the
gates of a town. The prince entered the gates, and found himself in a
city the like of which he had never seen in his life before for
grandeur and magnificence--beautiful palaces and gardens, stores and
bazaars crowded with rich stuffs of satin and silk and wrought silver
and gold of cunningest workmanship; for the land to which he had come
was the richest in all of the world. All that day he wandered up and
down, and thought nothing of weariness and hunger for wonder of all
that he saw. But at last evening drew down, and he began to bethink
himself of somewhere to lodge during the night.

Just then he came to a bridge, over the wall of which leaned an
old man with a long white beard, looking down into the water. He was
dressed richly but soberly, and every now and then he sighed and
groaned, and as the prince drew near he saw the tears falling--drip,
drip--from the old man's eyes.

The prince had a kind heart, and could not bear to see one in
distress; so he spoke to the old man, and asked him his trouble.

"Ah, me!" said the other, "only yesterday I had a son, tall and
handsome like yourself. But the queen took him to sup with her, and I
am left all alone in my old age, like a tree stripped of leaves and
fruit."

"But surely," said the prince, "it can be no such sad matter to
sup with a queen. That is an honor that most men covet."

"Ah!" said the old man, "you are a stranger in this place, or
else you would know that no youth so chosen to sup with the queen
ever returns to his home again."

"Yes," said the prince, "I am a stranger and have only come
hither this day, and so do not understand these things. Even when I
found you I was about to ask the way to some inn where folk of good
condition lodge."

"Then come home with me to-night," said the old man. "I live all
alone, and I will tell you the trouble that lies upon this country."
Thereupon, taking the prince by the arm, he led him across the bridge
and to another quarter of the town where he dwelt. He bade the
servants prepare a fine supper, and he and the prince sat down to the
table together. After they had made an end of eating and drinking,
the old man told the prince all concerning those things of which he
had spoken, and thus it was:

"When the king of this land died he left behind him three
daughters--the most beautiful princesses in all of the world.

"Folk hardly dared speak of the eldest of them, but whisperings
said that she was a sorceress, and that strange and gruesome things
were done by her. The second princess was also a witch, though it was
not said that she was evil, like the other. As for the youngest of
the three, she was as beautiful as the morning and as gentle as a
dove. When she was born a golden thread was about her neck, and it
was foretold of her that she was to be the queen of that land.

"But not long after the old king died the youngest princess
vanished--no one could tell whither, and no one dared to ask--and the
eldest princess had herself crowned as queen, and no one dared
gainsay her. For a while everything went well enough, but by-and-by
evil days came upon the land. Once every seven days the queen would
bid some youth, young and strong, to sup with her, and from that time
no one ever heard of him again, and no one dared ask what had become
of him. At first it was the great folk at the queen's
palace--officers and courtiers--who suffered; but by-and-by the sons
of the merchants and the chief men of the city began to be taken. One
time," said the old man," I myself had three sons -- as noble young
men as could be found in the wide world. One day the chief of the
queen's officers came to my house and asked me concerning how many
sons I had. I was forced to tell him, and in a little while they were
taken one by one to the queen's palace, and I never saw them
again.

"But misfortune, like death, comes upon the young as well as the
old. You yourself have had trouble, or else I am mistaken. Tell me
what lies upon your heart, my son, for the talking of it makes the
burthen lighter."

The prince did as the old man bade him, and told all of his
story; and so they sat talking and talking until far into the night,
and the old man grew fonder and fonder of the prince the more he saw
of him. So the end of the matter was that he asked the prince to live
with him as his son, seeing that the young man had now no father and
he no children, and the prince consented gladly enough.

So the two lived together like father and son, and the good old
man began to take some joy in life once more.

But one day who should come riding up to the door but the chief
of the queen's officers.

"How is this?" said he to the old man, when he saw the prince.
"Did you not tell me that you had but three sons, and is this not a
fourth?"

It was of no use for the old man to tell the officer that the
youth was not his son, but was a prince who had come to visit that
country. The officer drew forth his tablets and wrote something upon
them, and then went his way, leaving the old man sighing and
groaning. "Ah, me!" said he, "my heart sadly forebodes trouble."

Sure enough, before three days had passed a bidding came to the
prince to make ready to sup with the queen that night.

When evening drew near a troop of horsemen came, bringing a
white horse with a saddle and bridle of gold studded with precious
stones, to take the prince to the queen's palace.

As soon as they had brought him thither they led the prince to a
room where was a golden table spread with a snow-white cloth and set
with dishes of gold. At the end of the table the queen sat waiting
for him, and her face was hidden by a veil of silver gauze. She
raised the veil and looked at the prince, and when he saw her face he
stood as one wonder-struck, for not only was she so beautiful, but
she set a spell upon him with the evil charm of her eyes. No one sat
at the table but the queen and the prince, and a score of young pages
served them, and sweet music sounded from a curtained gallery.

At last came midnight, and suddenly a great gong sounded from
the court-yard outside. Then in an instant the music was stopped, the
pages that served them hurried from the room, and presently all was
as still as death.

Then, when all were gone, the queen arose and beckoned the
prince, and he had no choice but to arise also and follow whither she
led. She took him through the palace, where all was as still as the
grave, and so came out by a postern door into a garden. Beside the
postern a torch burned in a bracket. The queen took it down, and then
led the prince up a path and under the silent trees until they came
to a great wall of rough stone. She pressed her hand upon one of the
great stones, and it opened like a door, and there was a flight of
steps that led downward. The queen descended these steps, and the
prince followed closely behind her. At the bottom was a long
passage-way, and at the farther end the prince saw what looked like a
bright spark of light, as though the sun were shining. She thrust the
torch into another bracket in the wall of the passage, and then led
the way towards the light. It grew larger and larger as they went
forward, until at last they came out at the farther end, and there
the prince found himself standing in the sunlight and not far from
the seashore. The queen led the way towards the shore, when suddenly
a great number of black dogs came running towards them, barking and
snapping, and showing their teeth as though they would tear the two
in pieces. But the queen drew from her bosom a whip with a
steel-pointed lash, and as the dogs came springing towards them she
laid about her right and left, till the skin flew and the blood ran,
and the dogs leaped away howling and yelping.

At the edge of the water was a great stone mill, and the queen
pointed towards it and bade the prince turn it. Strong as he was, it
was as much as he could do to work it; but grind it he did, though
the sweat ran down his face in streams. By-and-by a speck appeared
far away upon the water; and as the prince ground and ground at the
mill the speck grew larger and larger. It was something upon the
water, and it came nearer and nearer as swiftly as the wind. At last
it came close enough for him to see that it was a little boat all of
brass. By-and-by the boat struck upon the beach, and as soon as it
did so the queen entered it, bidding the prince do the same.

No sooner were they seated than away the boat went, still as
swiftly as the wind. On it flew and on it flew, until at last they
came to another shore, the like of which the prince had never seen in
his life before. Down to the edge of the water ran a garden--but such
a garden! The leaves of the trees were all of silver and the fruit of
gold, and instead of flowers were precious stones--white, red,
yellow, blue, and green--that flashed like sparks of sunlight as the
breeze moved them this way and that way. Beyond the silver trees,
with their golden fruit, was a great palace as white as snow, and so
bright that one had to shut one's eyes as one looked upon it.

The boat ran up on the beach close to just such a stone mill as
the prince had seen upon the other side of the water, and then he and
the queen stepped ashore. As soon as they had done so the brazen boat
floated swiftly away, and in a little while was gone.

"Here our journey ends," said the queen. "Is it not a wonderful
land, and well worth the seeing? Look at all these jewels and this
gold, as plenty as fruits and flowers at home. :You may take what you
please; but while you are gathering them I have another matter after
which I must look. Wait for me here, and by-and-by I will be back
again."

So saying, she turned and left the prince, going towards the
castle back of the trees.

But the prince was a prince, and not a common man; he cared
nothing for gold and jewels. What he did care for was to see where
the queen went, and why she had brought him to this strange land. So,
as soon as she had fairly gone, he followed after.

He went along under the gold and silver trees, in the direction
she had taken, until at last he came to a tall flight of steps that
led up to the doorway of the snow-white palace. The door stood open,
and into it the prince went. He saw not a soul, but he heard a noise
as of blows and the sound as of some one weeping. He followed the
sound, until by-and-by he came to a great vaulted room in the very
centre of the palace. A curtain hung at the doorway. The prince
lifted it and peeped within, and this was what he saw:

In the middle of the room was a marble basin of water as clear
as crystal, and around the sides of the basin were these words,
written in letters of gold:

"Whatsoever is False, that I make True."

Beside the fountain upon a marble stand stood a statue of a
beautiful woman made of alabaster, and around the neck of the statue
was a thread of gold. The queen stood beside the statue, and beat and
beat it with her steel-tipped whip. And all the while she lashed it
the statue sighed and groaned like a living being, and the tears ran
down its stone cheeks as though it were a suffering Christian.
By-and-by the queen rested for a moment, and said, panting, "Will you
give me the thread of gold?" and the statue answered "No." Whereupon
she fell to raining blows upon it as she had done before.

So she continued, now beating the statue and now asking it
whether it would give her the thread of gold, to which the statue
always answered "No," and all the while the prince stood gazing and
wondering. By-and-by the queen wearied of what she was doing, and
thrust the steel-tipped lash back into her bosom again, upon which
the prince, seeing that she was done, hurried back to the garden
where she had left him and pretended to be gathering the golden fruit
and jewel flowers.

The queen said nothing to him good or bad, except to command him
to grind at the great stone mill as he had done on the other side of
the water. Thereupon the prince did as she bade, and presently the
brazen boat came skimming over the water more swiftly than the wind.
Again the queen and the prince entered it, and again it carried them
to the other side whence they had come.

No sooner had the queen set foot upon the shore than she stopped
and gathered up a handful of sand. Then, turning as quick as
lightning, she flung it into the prince's face. "Be a black dog," she
cried in a loud voice, "and join your comrades!"

And now it was that the ring that the prince's mother had given
him stood him in good stead. But for it he would have become a black
dog like those others, for thus it had happened to all before him who
had ferried the witch queen over the water. So she expected to see
him run away yelping, as those others had done; but the prince
remained a prince, and stood looking her in the face.

When the queen saw that her magic had failed her she grew as
pale as death, and fell to trembling in every limb. She turned and
hastened quickly away, and the prince followed her wondering, for he
neither knew the mischief she had intended doing him, nor how his
ring had saved him from the fate of those others.

So they came back up the stairs and out through the stone wall
into the palace garden. The queen pressed her hand against the stone
and it turned back into its place again. Then, beckoning to the
prince, she hurried away down the garden. Before he followed he
picked up a coal that lay near by, and put a cross upon the stone;
then he hurried after her, and so came to the palace once more.

By this time the cocks were crowing, and the dawn of day was
just beginning to show over the roof-tops and the chimney-stacks of
the town.

As for the queen, she had regained her composure, and, bidding
the prince wait for her a moment, she hastened to her chamber. There
she opened her book of magic, and in it she soon found who the prince
was and how the ring had saved him.

When she had learned all that she wanted to know she put on a
smiling face and came back to him. "Ah, prince," said she, "I well
know who you are, for your coming to my country is not secret to me.
I have shown you strange things to-night. I will unfold all the
wonder to you another time. Will you not come back and sup with me
again?"

"Yes," said the prince, "I will come whensoever you bid me;" for
he was curious to know the secret of the statue and the strange
things he had seen.

"And will you not give me a pledge of your coming?" said the
queen, still smiling.

"What pledge shall I give you," said the prince.

"Give me the ring that is upon your finger," said the queen; and
she smiled so bewitchingly that the prince could not have refused her
had he desired to do so.

Alas for him! He thought no evil, but, without a word, drew off
the ring and gave it to the queen, and she slipped it upon her
finger.

"O fool!" she cried, laughing a wicked laugh, "O fool! to give
away that in which your safety lay!" As she spoke she dipped her
fingers into a basin of water that stood near by and dashed the drops
into the prince's face. "Be a raven," she cried, "and a raven
remain!"

In an instant the prince was a prince no longer, but a
coal-black raven. The queen snatched up a sword that lay near by and
struck at him to kill him. But the raven-prince leaped aside and the
blow missed its aim.

By good luck a window stood open, and before the queen could
strike again he spread his wings and flew out of the open casement
and over the house-tops and was gone.

On he flew and on he flew until he came to the old man's house,
and so to the room where his foster-father himself was sitting. He
lit upon the ground at the old man's feet and tried to tell him what
had befallen, but all that he could say was "Croak! croak!"

"What brings this bird of ill omen?" said the old man, and he
drew his sword to kill it. He raised his hand to strike, but the
raven did not try to fly away as he had expected, but bowed his neck
to receive the stroke. Then the old man saw that the tears were
running down from the raven's eyes, and he held his hand. "What
strange thing is this?" he said. "Surely nothing but the living soul
weeps; and how, then, can this bird shed tears?" So he took the raven
up and looked into his eyes, and in them he saw the prince's soul.
"Alas!" he cried, "my heart misgives me that something strange has
happened. Tell me, is this not my foster-son, the prince?"

The raven answered "Croak!" and nothing else; but the good old
man understood it all, and the tears ran down his cheeks and trickled
over his beard. "Whether man or raven, you shall still be my son,"
said he, and he held the raven close in his arms and caressed it.

He had a golden cage made for the bird, and every day he would
walk with it in the garden, talking to it as a father talks to his
son.

One day when they were thus in the garden together a strange
lady came towards them down the pathway. Over her had and face was
drawn a thick veil, so that the two could not tell who she was. When
she came close to them she raised the veil, and the raven-prince saw
that her face was the living likeness of the queen's; and yet there
was something in it that was different. It was the second sister of
the queen, and the old man knew her and bowed before her.

"Listen," said she. "I know what the raven is, and that it is
the prince, whom the queen has bewitched. I also know nearly as much
of magic as she, and it is that alone that has saved me so long from
ill. But danger hangs close over me; the queen only waits for the
chance to bewitch me; and some day she will overpower me, for she is
stronger than I. With the prince's aid I can overcome her and make
myself forever safe, and it is this that has brought me here to-day.
My magic is powerful enough to change the prince back into his true
shape again, and I will do so if he will aid me in what follows, and
this is it: I will conjure the queen, and by-and-by a great eagle
will come flying, and its plumage will be as black as night. Then I
myself will become an eagle, with black-and-white plumage, and we two
will fight in the air. After a while we will both fall to the ground,
and then the prince must cut off the head of the black eagle with a
knife I shall give him. Will you do this?" said she, turning to the
raven, "if I transform you to your true shape?"

The raven bowed his head and said "Croak!" And the sister of the
queen knew that he meant yes.

Therewith she drew a great, long keen knife from her bosom, and
thrust it into the ground. "It is with this knife of magic," said
she, "that you must cut off the black eagle's head." Then the
witch-princess gathered up some sand in her hand, and flung it into
the raven's face. "Resume," cried she, "your own shape!" And in an
instant the prince was himself again. The next thing the sister of
the queen did was to draw a circle upon the ground around the prince,
the old man, and herself. On the circle she marked strange figures
here and there. Then, all three standing close together, she began
her conjurations, uttering strange words--now under her breath, and
now clear and loud.

Presently the sky darkened, and it began to thunder and rumble.
Darker it grew and darker, and the thunder crashed and roared. The
earth trembled under their feet, and the trees swayed hither and
thither as though tossed by a tempest. Then suddenly the uproar
ceased and all grew as still as death, the clouds rolled away, and in
a moment the sun shone out once more, and all was calm and serene as
it had been before. But still the princess muttered her conjurations,
and as the prince and the old man looked they beheld a speck that
grew larger and larger, until they saw that it was an eagle as black
as night that was coming swiftly flying through the sky. Then the
queen's sister also saw it and ceased from her spells. She drew a
little cap of feathers from her bosom with trembling hands.
"Remember," said she to the prince; and, so saying, clapped the
feather cap upon her head. In an instant she herself became an
eagle--pied, black and white--and, spreading her wings, leaped into
the air.

For a while the two eagles circled around and around; but at
last they dashed against one another, and, grappling with their
talons, tumbled over and over until they struck the ground close to
the two who stood looking.

Then the prince snatched the knife from the ground and ran to
where they lay struggling. "Which was I to kill?" said he to the old
man.

"Are they not birds of a feather?" cried the foster-father.
"Kill them both, for then only shall we all be safe."

The prince needed no second telling to see the wisdom of what
the old man said. In an instant he struck off the heads of both the
eagles, and thus put an end to both sorceresses, the lesser as well
as the greater. They buried both of the eagles in the garden without
telling any one of what had happened. So soon as that was done the
old man bade the prince tell him all that had befallen him, and the
prince did so.

"Aye! aye!" said the old man, "I see it all as clear as day. The
black dogs are the young men who have supped with the queen; the
statue is the good princess; and the basin of water is the water of
life, which has the power of taking away magic. Come; let us make
haste to bring help to all those unfortunates who have been lying
under the queen's spells."

The prince needed no urging to do that. They hurried to the
palace; they crossed the garden to the stone wall. There they found
the stone upon which the prince had set the black cross. He pressed
his hand upon it, and it opened to him like a door. They descended
the steps, and went through the passageway, until they came out upon
the sea-shore. The black dogs came leaping towards them; but this
time it was to fawn upon them, and to lick their hands and faces.

The prince turned the great stone mill till the brazen boat came
flying towards the shore. They entered it, and so crossed the water
and came to the other side. They did not tarry in the garden, but
went straight to the snow-white palace and to the great vaulted
chamber where was the statue. "Yes," said the old man, "it is the
youngest princess, sure enough."

The prince said nothing, but he dipped up some of the water in
his palm and dashed it upon the statue. "If you are the princess,
take your true shape again," said he. Before the words had left his
lips the statue became flesh and blood, and the princess stepped down
from where she stood, and the prince thought that he had never seen
any one so beautiful as she. "You have brought me back to life," said
she, "and whatever I shall have shall be yours as well as mine."

Then they all set their faces homeward again, and the prince
took with him a cupful of the water of life.

When they reached the farther shore the black dogs came running
to meet them. The prince sprinkled the water he carried upon them,
and as soon as it touched them that instant they were black dogs no
longer, but the tall, noble young men that the sorceress queen had
bewitched. There, as the old man had hoped, he found his own three
sons, and kissed them with the tears running down his face.

But when the people of that land learned that their youngest
princess, and the one whom they loved, had come back again, and that
the two sorceresses would trouble them no longer, they shouted and
shouted for joy. All the town was hung with flags and illuminated,
the fountains ran with wine, and nothing was heard but sounds of
rejoicing. In the midst of it all the prince married the princess,
and so became the king of that country.

And now to go back again to the beginning.

After the youngest prince had been driven away from home, and
the old king had divided the kingdom betwixt the other two, things
went for a while smoothly and joyfully. But by little and little the
king was put to one side until he became as nothing in his own land.
At last hot words passed between the father and the two sons, and the
end of the matter was that the king was driven from the land to shift
for himself.

Now, after the youngest prince had married and had become king
of that other land, he bethought himself of his father and his
mother, and longed to see them again. So he set forth and travelled
towards his old home. In his journeying he came to a lonely house at
the edge of a great forest, and there night came upon him. He sent
one of the many of those who rode with him to ask whether he could
not find lodging there for the time, and who should answer the
summons but the king, his father, dressed in the coarse clothing of a
forester. The old king did not know his own son in the kingly young
king who sat upon his snow-white horse. He bade the visitor to enter,
and he and the old queen served their son and bowed before him.

The next morning the young king rode back to his own land, and
then sent attendants with horses and splendid clothes, and bade them
bring his father and mother to his own home.

He had a noble feast set for them, with everything befitting the
entertainment of a king, but he ordered that not a grain of salt
should season it.

So the father and the mother sat down to the feast with their
son and his queen, but all the time they did not know him. The old
king tasted the food and tasted the food, but he could not eat of
it.

"Do you not feel hungry?" said the young king.

"Alas," said his father, "I crave your majesty's pardon, but
there is no salt in the food."

"And so is life lacking of savor without love," said the young
king; "and yet because I loved you as salt you disowned me and cast
me out into the world."

Therewith he could contain himself no longer, but with the tears
running down his cheeks kissed his father and his mother; and they
knew him, and kissed him again.

Afterwards the young king went with a great army into the
country of his elder brothers, and, overcoming them, set his father
upon his throne again. If ever the two got back their crowns you may
be sure that they wore them more modestly than they did the first
time.

So the Fisherman who had one time unbottled the Genie whom
Solomon the Wise had stoppered up concluded his story, and all of the
good folk who were there began clapping their shadowy hands.

"Aye, aye," said old Bidpai, "there is much truth in what you
say, for it is verily so that that which men
call--love--is--the--salt--of--" * * *

His voice had been fading away thinner and thinner and smaller
and smaller--now it was like the shadow of a voice; now it trembled
and quivered out into silence and was gone.

And with the voice of old Bidpai the pleasant Land of Twilight
was also gone. As a breath fades away from a mirror, so had it faded
and vanished into nothingness.

I opened my eyes.

There was a yellow light--it came from the evening lamp. There
were people of flesh and blood around--my own dear people--and they
were talking together. There was the library with the rows of books
looking silently out from their shelves. There was the fire of
hickory logs crackling and snapping in the fireplace, and throwing a
wavering, yellow light on the wall.

Had I been asleep? No; I had been in Twilight Land.

And now the pleasant Twilight Land had gone. It had faded out,
and I was back again in the work-a-day world.

There I was sitting in my chair; and, what was more, it was time
for the children to go to bed.