sovereign.”
“But I already have a map,” Prince Dall protested. He held his map up for the man to see.
“Oh, my!” said the short, heavily bearded man. He slapped the side of his head so hard Prince Dall winced. “That’s terrible. You’ve got last year’s copy. I’m afraid you’ll never find your way with that. You’ll need a new map. It’s only…”
“I know. One gold sovereign,” sighed the prince, reaching into his purse.
“Pleasure to be of service,” said the man. He tipped his hat, turned on his heel and walked off down the path.
Sure
enough, Prince Dall’s new map showed a second trail branching off from the first no more than 100 paces back the way he had come. Retracing his steps, he found the turn without difficulty and in less than a minute came upon a large wooden sign with an arrow carved on it. Next to the arrow were the words “This Way to Dragon Mountain.”
On the back of the sign was a much older message, upside down that said, RED COACHMAN TAVERN, J. DEVON, PROP.
Next to that was the faded image of a red coachman with outstretched arms. In the direction the left arm pointed was a path.
“So much for red men who hang upside down,” the prince muttered.
In less time than it takes for a birthday candle to burn down, the path took Prince Dall to a rocky shore overlooking the mainland. Drawn up on the shore was a dory, painted in dark green and red. The prince started toward it and was immediately joined by a short, heavily bearded man dressed from cap to boot in tattered blue wool.
“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
“But I already have a map,” Prince Dall protested. He held his map up for the man to see.
“Oh, my!” said the short, heavily bearded man. He slapped the side of his head so hard Prince Dall winced. “That’s terrible. You’ve got last year’s copy. I’m afraid you’ll never find your way with that. You’ll need a new map. It’s only…”
“I know. One gold sovereign,” sighed the prince, reaching into his purse.
“Pleasure to be of service,” said the man. He tipped his hat, turned on his heel and walked off down the path.
Sure
enough, Prince Dall’s new map showed a second trail branching off from the first no more than 100 paces back the way he had come. Retracing his steps, he found the turn without difficulty and in less than a minute came upon a large wooden sign with an arrow carved on it. Next to the arrow were the words “This Way to Dragon Mountain.”
On the back of the sign was a much older message, upside down that said, RED COACHMAN TAVERN, J. DEVON, PROP.
Next to that was the faded image of a red coachman with outstretched arms. In the direction the left arm pointed was a path.
“So much for red men who hang upside down,” the prince muttered.
In less time than it takes for a birthday candle to burn down, the path took Prince Dall to a rocky shore overlooking the mainland. Drawn up on the shore was a dory, painted in dark green and red. The prince started toward it and was immediately joined by a short, heavily bearded man dressed from cap to boot in tattered blue wool.
“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
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