Twilight Land by Howard Pyle (black authors fiction txt) 📕

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.