XVIII
I continue my search for the labyrinth and come upon a hermit who relates a rather interesting story, which decides my course of action.
I HAD lived a bachelor’s life for the reason I have heretofore given, and had been exceedingly contented. But now nothing but an overpowering desire for connubial felicity found place in my thoughts, and that felicity persisted in centering around the writer of the message I have set forth at length.
I had been made much of by many admirable women, owing to my many adventures and traveling experiences, as, somehow or other, women like brave men, and a man who has traveled a great deal they think must of necessity be brave. I do not wish to be understood as saying they made love to me; far from it; they were too polished: but I doubt not, had I been so inclined, my suit would have received favor. But now my soul was consuming for the presence of this unknown.
The days of magic were over, else I would have sought its aid. And yet I was in a land of mystery. Might I not find some one whose vision might locate this fair one?
I searched among the tribes of nomads diligently, without any degree of success. Many there were told me much I knew, and more of which I have not ascertained the truth or lack of it.
I spent several months in these fruitless efforts, and at last was brought to a realization I had never failed when I relied on my own ingenuity, and I should not fail in this case.
A short time spent in analyzing the situation, when I had reached this conclusion, gave me a plan of operations: I must build another airship and sail over the country until I found her, which should be a matter of brief duration, as, if I could rise high enough, I could take in a vast space, and must discover the white trees from a great distance, and those once discovered, nothing could prevent reaching the goal.
I therefore journeyed to the mountains, as I could not launch my craft from a low altitude.
About half way up the mountain side I came upon a cabin occupied by a hermit. Now it sohappened that one side of his cabin was composed of a single board—just precisely what I desired. I made the remark I would be glad to purchase it of him. At which suggestion he laughed immoderately. What had he to do with gold? He neither bought nor sold. He did not even so much as exchange one thing for another—not even in the matter of clothing. I was convinced I could not find another board so well suited to my needs, and I was not to be rebuffed.
I asked him upon what terms he would part with it. No terms whatever. Did it not form one side of his cabin, and was it not exactly what he needed in the place in which it was? I admitted the point. And he went so far as to assert it came with very ill grace for me to suggest its removal. Not saying as much as he would like, or as the circumstances might permit, he would, however, state that I was laboring from one of the ailments which were ultimately to ruin the human race, to-wit, selfishness; that it had been the one blot on his fair life, and he had come hither to atone.
I showed my interest, and he narrated the following story:
The Hermit’s Story
Five years ago come spring I was a husky man, indeed. Of such power was I there were few men in the realm having sufficient temerity to cross weapons of whatever nature with me.
There was a very beautiful woman in the country, to whose hand I laid siege. I may as well state in the outset, I had little hope, but I determined if I should not succeed no other one would. Her father was very austere, and gave her few liberties, though she was permitted greater license than any other young lady. Her father loved her dearly, and it was his wish she should marry well. It is my opinion she inherited a desire in a similar direction, for no one of her suitors received the slightest encouragement.
At the time I came upon the scene of her life there was a chivalrous young man who considered all else but her love of trifling importance. I quickly became of the same opinion. Each observed closely all the other did, and it so happened I one day met him in the woods at the hunt.
When we came in at the death I rode to a conspicuous place and challenged to mortal combatany man who held claim as a suitor of the princess—for she was a princess, and would, if she chose, receive the throne on her father’s demise. The young man rode forth, spear in hand, and the entire company proceeded to an opening of size near by, which we circled around for some time, when he suddenly wheeled his horse and came at me with his lance atilt. I was on my guard, and by a simple twist broke his lance. I rode away, and a friend handed him a broad-sword; mine was at my side.
I could have killed him before, but preferred to prolong the matter for the edification of the assembly. He was frothing with rage, and his eyes blazed dangerously as he came at a swinging gallop, his sword in a very awkward position—so it seemed to me, but proved otherwise, and I barely escaped without injury. My horse was of excellent metal, and was snorting gleefully. I whirled about and made at my antagonist pellmell.
I now observed that he was left-handed, which accounted for my supposition of awkwardness on his part. He therefore tried to ride on the opposite from the usual side, which I tried to prevent,but was not quick enough, and lost the top of my helmet, being thankful to come off so well.
My veins were now well filled, and I set my teeth hard as I careered toward him in an attempt to quarter his course, and his sword struck my horse’s flanks as I swung my sword with a blow that would have split in twain an ordinary man. He caught it with such dexterity as to break my sword in halves.
I dismounted, drew my light Damascus blade, and stood awaiting him. He was no laggard, and was soon facing me, as the guests formed a circle. It was as pretty a battle as any one might wish to see. I never saw a man with such a pair of lungs. He never seemed in the least to suffer for breath, though I kept him quite busy, and Imay say he kept me well occupied. Neither of us could gain a point.
Suddenly there broke into the ring a page from the court, who cried aloud:
“Gentlemen: The princess sends greeting, and says she has learned you are indulging in this display of valor because of her. Therefore she sends word, saying as follows: She is curious in no way as to what the outcome may be, as she is not in the least interested in either of you. And she says furthermore if but one of you survive he shall be banished from the realm during the remainder of his natural life for deigning to go to such extremities without her permission. And that if this message shall have the effect of stopping the combat it will show your true merit. And she wished me to close my remarks with the following manifesto: That whoever shall further witness your efforts upon this or any other field shall be punished by banishment and confiscation of his entire property and title.”
Thereupon he left us. Neither of us speaking nor moving for a time, the entire body of spectators disappeared, and we were alone. Then he spake:
“Sir Swelltoad, you have heard the message. The combat was stopped without the consent of either, and therefore I must give warning and say that I seek banishment. What is your will?”
“Defend yourself,” was my reply.
It was a short matter, for he was now over-zealous, and I was soon on my horse and am here where you have found me.
I might add that two years ago the princess became so disgusted with all mankind she had a wonderful labyrinth erected for her, repaired into its secret chamber, and will see no one who will not solve its mystery; but that no one who has ever fought for her may strive to enter under penalty of death in a most ignominious manner.
This ended the hermit’s story. It is needless to say my interest was aroused, and with all the composure and carelessness I could command I endeavored to adroitly ascertain the whereabouts of the labyrinth. I therefore said:
“And has no one found the secret chamber?”
“No one has found it, and no one has returned, for it is so constructed that, having once enteredthe labyrinth, there is no way of return, and he who enters wanders until starvation ends him.”
“Is this labyrinth at a great distance?”
“It is the other side of the mountains,” he returned.
“I am exceedingly curious to see what that secret chamber is like,” I remarked, carelessly.
“Let me dissuade you,” said he, “from the undertaking, for it will be fruitless.”
“Why so?” I asked.
“For it is a most wonderful labyrinth. It is full of every imaginable thing in the way of pit-falls and wild-eyed beasts, and it is impossible for any one to succeed. I say this, because a most formidable knight who had faced death in every conceivable form went on the quest a month ago and has not returned. Each day there is a herald sent forth to cry out whether any one has succeeded. A week ago—the last news I had—no one had been crowned. And no one ever will be.”