The Strange Tale of the Snake Ring (2 page)

Thomas walked briskly on until the sun grew hot at noon. Then he rested in the shade of a tree, ate a little of his food, and refreshed himself with a drink. When it grew a little cooler, he walked on. As the sun was setting he came to a farm. The farmer was just taking a last look at his animals before going indoors for his supper.

“May I sleep in your barn tonight?” asked Thomas politely. “I am on a journey and I shall be gone by morning.”

“Yes, certainly,” replied the farmer. “The hay is soft and dry, and you may help yourself to a drink of cider from the barrel.”

Early next morning he was on his way again. He walked on again for the whole of the second day, and that night slept in a dry ditch.

His third day's march took him through a gloomy forest, where the trees were so close together that there was hardly a glimpse of the sky. From time to time he kept thinking that someone was following him, as he heard rustlings in the undergrowth; but he saw no one, and decided that the sounds were made by woodland creatures. He walked cheerfully on his way, but he would not have been so cheerful if he had known what the sounds really were. For in the wood lived two robbers, who would wait for rich travellers to pass through the forest, and would pounce on them and relieve them of their money and valuables.

Thomas learned later that they were known as Riese and Zwerg. These names mean Giant and Dwarf, because one was an enormous man of great strength, and the other very small and wiry. In fact, before they took to being robbers in the forest, they had both worked in a travelling show. Riese was the strong man, and Zwerg an acrobat and tightrope walker.

Fortunately for Thomas they took a good look at him from the shelter of the trees. He seemed to them to be a poor traveller not worth the trouble of robbing, so they allowed him to go peacefully on his way.

As the sun set Thomas emerged from the forest and looked for somewhere to spend the night. He ate the last few morsels of his bread and cheese, and found a clear spring of water to have a drink and refill his water bottle. A little further down the valley was a hay field, and settling down in a swathe of hay that had been raked up to dry, in a few moments was fast asleep.

When he awoke the next morning to begin the fourth day of his journey, he was cold and hungry. But he set off with a will, and soon he could see in the distance a town on the top of a hill. At the very summit there was a castle.

“Rich noblemen live in castles,” said Thomas to himself. “If I step out briskly, I should be there by mid-day.”

But it was further away than he thought, for it was not until sunset that he came to the walls of the town. At the gate, a soldier was on guard.

“Halt!” cried the soldier, “and hear what I have to say! No rogues, vagabonds, pedlars, highwaymen or minstrels are welcome here, by order of the prince. So if you are any of those things, please be on your way to some other town.”

“I am none of those things,” replied Thomas, “I am an honest man looking for work, and if you will let me in, I intend to seek your prince, who I suppose lives in the castle on the hill, to ask if he has any employment for me.”

“You are right in thinking that he lives in the castle,” said the soldier, “but I have my reasons for thinking that he will not employ you. More than that, I dare not say. But there's no harm in trying: so enter in peace.”

So Thomas strode through the gate, and began to climb a steep, cobbled street. He thought, quite correctly, that if he kept climbing, he would reach the castle in the end. Halfway up the street he stopped to take his breath, and as he did so, he noticed a beggar sitting on a doorstep with a small wooden bowl on his lap.

“Kind young gentleman,” called the beggar in a whining voice, “spare a few coins for a poor old man, wounded in the French wars, no friends or relations – just a few pennies would do.”

This was the dirtiest, raggedest beggar that he had ever seen, and Thomas felt quite sorry for him. Reaching into his pocket he found a few small coins and dropped them into the begging bowl.

“Thank you kindly, young gentleman,” said the beggar, “but surely you are a stranger here – what might your business here be?”

“I am looking for work,” replied Thomas, “and I very much wish to work for the nobleman who owns the castle on the hill.”

“He is the Prince of Schwarzburg,” said the beggar. “I have never set eyes on him, that is, so far as I know. But it is said that he puts on various disguises, and walks about the town listening to what the people are saying about him. If he hears someone speaking disrespectfully, that person will find himself arrested and thrown into a dungeon.”

Now Thomas had never heard of a prince who did such a thing, and thought it quite a shabby trick for the prince to play on the townspeople. He could not help exclaiming, in quite a loud voice, “What a peculiar prince!”

“Hush!” cried the beggar, “do not say such things. The prince himself might be hiding in yonder doorway or round the next corner. You should not even say such things to me, as it's said that he sometimes disguises himself as a beggar.”

“Thank you for warning me!” said Thomas, and looked in the doorway and round the corner, but there was no one in sight except an old woman sweeping the doorstep of the house opposite. He said goodbye to the beggar and set off again up the steep hill to the castle. When he explained to the sentry at the gate that he was looking for work, he was directed to the door of the castle kitchens. The chief cook was a fat, jolly man who invited Thomas into the kitchen.

“Looking for work, are you?” asked the cook. “Well, the only work I have is washing the dishes, but I suppose that a bright young man like you might be too proud to do work like that!”

“I'm not at all proud,” said Thomas, “and I will do any work you ask.”

“Very well,” said the cook. “You are hired as third dishwasher. Now go and wash yourself at the pump in the yard, and come back here. I'll find you some leftovers to eat, and you can start work straight away.”

The leftovers turned out to be a large piece of game pie, several pieces of bread and a small mug of beer. Thomas was so hungry that this seemed to him like a wonderful banquet. He congratulated himself on his good fortune, and did not mind working as hard as he could, washing what seemed like a mountain of dirty vegetable pans and dishes. At last all was finished, and the two other boys who were the first and second dishwashers showed Thomas the small attic room, furnished with three narrow beds.

“Our beds are hard and not very comfortable,” said one of the other boys.

“When you have been sleeping on the ground any bed is better than none,” answered Thomas.

He stretched out as comfortably as he could and was soon fast asleep.

Next morning Thomas and his two companions were up at dawn, and were soon in the kitchen washing the first of the day's dirty dishes.

“Now, listen to me you three,” said the cook, looking rather worried. “I have just heard that the prince is coming to inspect the kitchens this morning. When he arrives, do not stop work until you are told. Do not say a word unless the prince addresses you, which is unlikely. But if he should happen to do so, bow, answer politely, and call him ‘Your Highness'.”

The boys went on with their work, and sure enough, later in the morning, the prince strode into the kitchen, followed by his steward and two soldiers with drawn swords. Thomas continued to wash dishes, as he had been told. The prince walked all around the kitchen, the dairy, the stillroom and the larder, and every now and then muttered something to the steward. Just as everyone thought that he was about to leave, the prince moved to where Thomas was working, and stood a few paces behind him.

“Turn round, boy, and face me,” snapped the prince.

Thomas did so.

“Are you new here?”

Thomas bowed politely. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Where do you come from?”

“From a village south of the forest, Your Highness.”

“I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!” shouted the prince angrily. “YOU ARE THE PERSON WHO WAS TALKING ABOUT ME IN THE STREET. YOU CRIED OUT LOUDLY THAT I AM PECULIAR!”

Thomas was too startled to reply.

“To the dungeon with him!” ordered the prince.

One of the soldiers sheathed his sword, produced a length of chain from his belt, and secured Thomas's hands. Then the other soldier joined in and between them they half pushed and half dragged him out of the kitchen, down a flight of stone steps and into a small, dark underground cell. The heavy door shut with a clang, and the key was turned in the lock.

There was a small, square hole at the top of the door, and by the small amount of light that filtered through, Thomas could just make out the details of his prison. It was just a small bare cell furnished only with a wooden box to sit on, and a heap of straw in one corner. That day went by more slowly than any day that Thomas could remember. At noon a soldier brought in a mug of thin soup and a piece of dry bread.

In the afternoon he sat on the box and thought about his situation.

“Well,” he said to himself, “that will teach me a lesson: that it is not always wise to say aloud what you are thinking. That old woman sweeping the steps must have been the prince in disguise. But what can I do now?”

But no matter how hard he thought, he could not see any way out. He tried the door to make sure it was firmly locked. He felt all round the walls but found nothing but smooth stone. There was nothing to do but make the best of it. When night came he curled up on the straw.
At least I'm used to sleeping rough, so I shall probably have a good night's sleep
, he thought.

But he was mistaken. There was very little straw, and the stone floor was hard and cold. He was still awake when, in the early hours of the next morning, Thomas saw a glimmer of light coming from the door. Then he heard the key turn in the lock, the door was opened, and there stood the cook in his shift and nightcap, with a candle in one hand and Thomas's knapsack in the other.

Before Thomas could say anything, the cook began: “The prince said I could let you out as soon as it was morning. When the soldiers had taken you away, he turned to me and said that you couldn't be all bad because you had given some coins to a beggar, but you had to be taught a lesson so you could stay in the cell till this morning.”

Thomas nearly said, “What a peculiar prince!” but remembered in time, and instead said: “What a kind prince!”

“Mind you,” continued the cook, “he's just as likely to change his mind again as soon as he is awake; so I advise you to leave here as quickly as you can, and be well away from the town before it's light. Now, I've put your belongings, some food and your water bottle in your knapsack – so take it, and good luck to you.”

“Thank you very much indeed,” said Thomas. “You are the kindest man I've met since I left home.”

“Go out through the kitchen and to the main gate. When you come to the sentry, say to him, ‘Open the gate, in the prince's name!' – and he will open it. When you get to the market cross, turn westwards, and in that direction there is a small wicket gate with no guards. Once again, goodbye, and good luck.”

Thomas followed the cook's instructions, and by the time the sun rose, he had left the peculiar prince's kingdom far behind.

Now followed many days of travelling. The weather became hotter, and the roads drier and more dusty, but Thomas travelled steadily on. Every few days it was necessary to stop and ask for work at some farm or orchard, but this was only to earn a little money for food, which would keep him alive during the next stage of this journey.

Once or twice he came to a great mansion or to a castle, where he tried to be taken into the service of the lord, but he had no success.

“There's plenty of work to be had on the farms and in the vineyards,” said the steward at one enormous house, and that seemed to be the general opinion. So Thomas had, for the present, to content himself with farm work. As the summer wore on, some of the farms began the corn harvest. When that was gathered in, there was the grape harvest in the vineyards that sloped steeply down the hillsides to the great River Rhine. As usual, Thomas worked hard, and his cheerful nature made him popular with the farmers and with the other workers.

But at last the grapes, too, were all gathered in. Thomas thought that it was time to set off again to search for a nobleman who would employ him, and thus make it possible to carry out his plan to return and marry Gerda. But just at that time, the weather changed for the worse.

Instead of day after day of warm sunshine, there was cold, drenching rain, blown along by gale force winds, which swept across the countryside.

This weather lasted for several weeks, and when it eventually stopped, the roads were almost knee-deep in mud. Even men on horseback were not able to travel far. The farmer who owned the vineyard where Thomas had been working, whose name was Franz, said to him:

“Thomas, I know you are wishing to be on your way, but you are very welcome to work here for the winter. There are lots of jobs to do indoors.”

“Thank you very much,” replied Thomas, “but I have told you my story, and you realise why I must go as soon as I can.”

“Listen to me,” said Franz seriously, “I know the weather in these parts much better than you do. When this rain has passed by, the wind will turn into the east. There will be night after night of snow, until it lies deep on all the hills. The river will run so fast and deep that it is dangerous to take out a boat. In fact, it is almost impossible to travel until the snows melt in the spring. Better to stay here than to be found frozen to death in the hills!”

All the other workers on the farm told him the same story, and begged him, if he valued his life, to remain safe and warm on the farm until the winter had passed. Thomas agreed. Franz paid him well and gave him excellent food and lodging, and Thomas was even able to save a little money from his wages. The winter soon passed by, and Thomas was happy and comfortable in his work on the farm.

Spring came, and the outdoor work began, but Thomas did not set off on his journey again. Franz thought to himself:
Perhaps he has forgotten his sweetheart at home, and he will be content to stay here and work for me. He is such a good worker that I should be sorry to lose him.

But when haymaking season came round, the sweet smell of the new mown hay, and the sound of the stone on the scythe, reminded Thomas of home, and of mowing the hay by the river with Gerda. He even remembered the little song, which they had sung together. Then he began to feel guilty that he had stayed with Franz so long.

Once he had made up his mind to continue his journey, he sought out Franz, and said to him, “Franz, you are a good friend as well as a good master. So much so, that I have stayed too long with you, when I should have been on my way. But now my thoughts are all on my home and my sweetheart, so I must go at once.”

“I am very sorry to see you go,” replied Franz, “but go with my blessing and a piece of advice: travel north until you come to the Kingdom of the Shining Sea. Everyone says that the king of that country is the richest and most generous nobleman in the whole of Germany.”

So early the next morning, Thomas set out on his travels once more. The weather had turned fine and warm, and travelling was pleasant in that part of the country. Nevertheless, it was a very long way to the Shining Sea, and it was several more weeks before Thomas, tired and footsore, arrived at the palace of the king. By now he knew that the kitchen was the place where it was possible to obtain employment, but when he arrived at the kitchen door, there were already about twenty men and boys of different ages lining up outside.

“Get to the back of the queue!” called several of them. “If there's any work going, it's first come, first served here,” said one.

The door opened and a tall man in a chef's hat and white apron stepped out. “I'm the head cook,” he announced, “and I can tell you that there is a job for only one man today.” The man at the head of the queue stepped forward.

“Have you ever worked in a nobleman's kitchen before?” the chef asked him.

“No, I haven't,” replied the man.

“You are no good then,” said the chef. “The king told me only to employ men with experience. Have any of you others ever worked in a nobleman's kitchen?” No one answered. The chef turned and was just about to disappear into the kitchen again, when Thomas suddenly remembered his experience with the ‘Peculiar Prince'.

“Yes! I have worked for the Prince of Schwarzburg,” cried Thomas loudly. He thought it wise not to mention that he had only worked there for a few hours.

The chef turned back, and said to Thomas, “In that case, you are just the man I want. Congratulations! You have just been appointed dishwasher to the king. Come with me, and as for you others, off you go as quickly as possible. You can see that this young man has been given the appointment.”

The chef led the way into the kitchen, and Thomas followed.