The Diamond Tree by Michael Matson Page B
Authors: Michael Matson
Tags: Children's Fiction
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places them in wicker baskets, which the black knights carry off into the castle. Whoever told me this tale said that every room of the castle is filled with baskets of diamonds that glow with such a warm and unnatural light that everything is illuminated and heated, even in winter, without need of lamps or candles or fires.
“Countless princes from distant lands have tried to outwit the Prince of Rage and claim his diamonds. All have failed. In the end, the evil prince either feeds them to Slither or drops them down a hole in the castle floor into never-ending darkness. It depends on his mood at the moment.”
Prince Dall turned just the smallest bit pale and bit his lip. He was, after all, a rather young prince.
“And where,” he asked quickly to get his mind off Slither, “may one find this evil prince?”
“I only know this,” said the old woman, climbing slowly to her feet and with some effort, slinging her many-patched bag of wool across her back, “when you have crossed the many mountains and several seas, one day you will come to an island of fire. In the center of the island a red man hangs upside down. If you follow the direction his left hand points, you will find the Prince of Rage.”
“A red man upside down on an island of fire!” cried Prince Dall. “What sort of riddle is that?”
“Ah,” said the old woman. She raised one gnarled and bony finger. “I knew I was leaving something out. It happens when you get to be my age. Riddles. The Prince of Rage loves riddles.”
“Is that all?” asked Prince Dall.
“I think so,” said the old woman. “At least I hope so.” And she turned and trudged away.
Prince Dall sat watching her painfully slow progress across the meadow. It is an interesting story, he thought to himself. But how true is it?
On the other hand, he thought, what difference does it make? There is really nothing to do here. Just going to find out if the story is true or false is an adventure of sorts.
At that moment, Prince Dall’s eye was caught by something glittering in the grass beside him. He reached down and picked it up. In his hand he held a large diamond, strangely warm to the touch, whose perfectly cut facets sent flashes of brilliant light in all directions.
“Perhaps the story is true, after all,” he said aloud.
He turned to call after the old woman but she was nowhere to be seen. Where he had last marked her progress lay a large rounded rock that looked a great deal like an enormous, many-patched bag. Beyond that, the flat fields and empty meadows stretched way as far as the eye could see.
Part Two
When you are the youngest of four princes and eager for adventure, “many mountains and several seas,” sounds like something you might be able to knock off easily between crocus and cornhusk.
In fact, it is usually more complicated than that. In the first place, not knowing in which direction to begin invariably causes some delay. Secondly, there are always obstacles, imps and ill winds, for example, which tend to make the going a bit sticky and further slow things down.
The trip that at the onset Prince Dall supposed would take him no more than a few months rolled on and on. Past one year it went. Past two. Past three. Until as last one night near the end of his fourth year of wandering, Prince Dall stood against the battered rail of his seventh ship and beheld a dull red glow on the horizon that he hoped could be the island of fire.
The young prince who leaned against the railing near the end of his journey was somewhat changed from the one who had started his quest four years earlier. He was taller by an inch, broader and stronger, toughened by his years of travel. There was a firmness in the set of his jaw and in his stance and in the way he held his sword that had not been there before.
Which is not to say that Prince Dall had grown up. Not at all. He was still romantic
“Countless princes from distant lands have tried to outwit the Prince of Rage and claim his diamonds. All have failed. In the end, the evil prince either feeds them to Slither or drops them down a hole in the castle floor into never-ending darkness. It depends on his mood at the moment.”
Prince Dall turned just the smallest bit pale and bit his lip. He was, after all, a rather young prince.
“And where,” he asked quickly to get his mind off Slither, “may one find this evil prince?”
“I only know this,” said the old woman, climbing slowly to her feet and with some effort, slinging her many-patched bag of wool across her back, “when you have crossed the many mountains and several seas, one day you will come to an island of fire. In the center of the island a red man hangs upside down. If you follow the direction his left hand points, you will find the Prince of Rage.”
“A red man upside down on an island of fire!” cried Prince Dall. “What sort of riddle is that?”
“Ah,” said the old woman. She raised one gnarled and bony finger. “I knew I was leaving something out. It happens when you get to be my age. Riddles. The Prince of Rage loves riddles.”
“Is that all?” asked Prince Dall.
“I think so,” said the old woman. “At least I hope so.” And she turned and trudged away.
Prince Dall sat watching her painfully slow progress across the meadow. It is an interesting story, he thought to himself. But how true is it?
On the other hand, he thought, what difference does it make? There is really nothing to do here. Just going to find out if the story is true or false is an adventure of sorts.
At that moment, Prince Dall’s eye was caught by something glittering in the grass beside him. He reached down and picked it up. In his hand he held a large diamond, strangely warm to the touch, whose perfectly cut facets sent flashes of brilliant light in all directions.
“Perhaps the story is true, after all,” he said aloud.
He turned to call after the old woman but she was nowhere to be seen. Where he had last marked her progress lay a large rounded rock that looked a great deal like an enormous, many-patched bag. Beyond that, the flat fields and empty meadows stretched way as far as the eye could see.
Part Two
When you are the youngest of four princes and eager for adventure, “many mountains and several seas,” sounds like something you might be able to knock off easily between crocus and cornhusk.
In fact, it is usually more complicated than that. In the first place, not knowing in which direction to begin invariably causes some delay. Secondly, there are always obstacles, imps and ill winds, for example, which tend to make the going a bit sticky and further slow things down.
The trip that at the onset Prince Dall supposed would take him no more than a few months rolled on and on. Past one year it went. Past two. Past three. Until as last one night near the end of his fourth year of wandering, Prince Dall stood against the battered rail of his seventh ship and beheld a dull red glow on the horizon that he hoped could be the island of fire.
The young prince who leaned against the railing near the end of his journey was somewhat changed from the one who had started his quest four years earlier. He was taller by an inch, broader and stronger, toughened by his years of travel. There was a firmness in the set of his jaw and in his stance and in the way he held his sword that had not been there before.
Which is not to say that Prince Dall had grown up. Not at all. He was still romantic
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