The door was open.
The King, hands in his pockets, was pacing up and down, pensive and nervous.
The Queen was sitting by the table, striving with infinite perseverance to fashion a crown out of strips of lead foil and odd bits of tin. Only the crown kept breaking up, and the Queen had to start over and over, again and yet again.
Sitting on the window ledge, Little Irene was gazing at the river, and every now and then would wipe her eyes, bright red and swollen from crying.
She got up to go outside, and saw in front of her the Prince, his head bandaged and his arm hanging limp by his side.
She let out a scream, and threw herself at his neck. “Where have you been? What happened to you?” she cried.
The King turned around sharply.
“What’s that? Is it you, at last?” he said half-angrily, half-delightedly. “It was about time you remembered to come back to your father’s house! Have you no thought to spare for us here, and what we are going through, while you spend all your time gallivanting around the town? Fine things have happened since you left us! Your sisters have gone a-wandering with the maids-in-waiting!”
“Yes, indeed!” added the Queen without getting up, entirely absorbed in her crown. “They left, the heartless girls, and they did not take me with them!”
The Prince stood still, transfixed and dazed.
“And where did they go?” he asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine!” replied the King, gesticulating wildly. “They left without telling us anything, and they took with them what food was left from yesterday, so that today we ourselves have nothing to eat!”
“Yes, we do, father,” said Little Irene, wiping her eyes, which kept welling up with tears. “I gathered eggs in the woods and I have boiled wild sorrel. You’ll see. I shall make you a lovely sorrel soup…”
“That’s it, of course! We shall be living on greens from now on!” said the King. “And not just any greens! Wild greens at that!”
And turning to his son, he said abruptly:
“And as for you, did you at least think of killing a wildfowl or two?”
“No,” replied the Prince, “I did not find the time.”
“Of course you did not! You run around with strangers, and what strangers! A fine lot of lowlifes, and as for your own, you do not even spare a thought!” said the King.
Changing tone all of a sudden, however, he asked:
“So tell me, what did you do yesterday with all those raving lunatics? And what happened to your head? Was it they who hit you? How did you get rid of them?”
“I did not get rid of them,” said the Prince with heartfelt emotion. “I led them into battle, where they fought as lions and were victorious, and they saved your kingdom; and many died, father, so your son might be spared…”
The King stopped, somewhat ashamed on account of all the thoughtless words he had been uttering.
“What’s that?! Has there been a battle?” he asked meekly. “But why did you not say so before?”
“And you have been wounded!” cried out Little Irene, struggling to control her sobs.
The Prince recounted to them how the master builder had constructed the bridge; how the soldiers had crossed to the opposite bank under cover of darkness and had taken the sleeping camp by surprise, forcing the enemy to flee, their king with them. He told them with what valour they had fought till daybreak, with farming tools instead of weapons, without food, weary, exhausted, and yet devoted to the end to the Prince who led them.
The King was listening to him, first in astonishment, then with deep-felt emotion, and finally with such enthusiasm that he could no longer control himself, and he clasped his son in his arms.
“You, it is you who made them worthy!” he cried. “You snapped them out of their stupor; you are the one who deserves to govern them. It is you I shall make king!”
Just at that moment, Polycarpus arrived, too.
“My lord,” he said, “the soldiers are hungry! We went to the grocer on the square to get olives and broad beans, only he won’t give out anything on credit, he says, not without payment. And no one has any money, since no one worked yesterday. What are we to do?”
The Prince unbuckled a wide leather money belt from around his waist and took out a couple of florins.
“Pay for the broad beans and the olives,” he said. “The soldiers are to eat as much as they want. For today this should be enough. As for tomorrow, we will see later what we must do.”
The King was in raptures when he saw the florins.
“Where did you find these?” he asked, delighted. “Send Polycarpus at once to buy us a nice fat turkey or two…”
And he reached out to take the money belt. But the Prince stopped his outstretched hand.
“These florins are sacred, father, they have been stained with blood,” he said.
And he pointed to a large red blotch, which spread across the money belt.
“Polydorus paid for these with his life,” he added with feeling. “They shall be spent, to the last coin, on our country’s behalf.”
“And how do you intend to spend them?” asked the King, feeling vexed and annoyed. “What more do you need to do? The enemy is gone and dealt with!”
“The enemy is not gone, even if he remains unseen,” said the Prince. “And even if he had retreated far beyond the borders, that would not suffice either, for we have no citadels, no army to stop him from coming back.”
“And it is with these florins that you hope to build citadels and provide for an army?” asked the King, laughing outright. “But, my boy, you need whole cisterns full of florins to do what you say, and still the money would not suffice.”
“I shall start with these,” said the Prince, “and before these are spent, perhaps I shall come by some more.”
“Where? Just tell me where and how?” asked the King, who was becoming peevish once again.
“Where? How?” said the Prince, considering this carefully. “Perhaps by labouring the land, which will nourish us in turn.”
“In a few years then, is that it? And until that time comes, we shall be eating sorrel soup prepared by Little Irene, I presume?”
The Prince lifted up his head.
“Yes, father!” he said resolutely. “For some years the entire land will be eating sorrel soup, and we shall set the example, until the earth can learn to yield its riches once again.”
Deep in thought he went down the mountain and headed towards the camp.
That he needed florins he knew well. But where was he to find them?
He looked around him, and dark gloom filled his heart as his gaze fell upon the uncultivated fields, the roads infested with thorns and potholes, and the desolate villages, which had once been inhabited, prosperous and thriving.
He was passing by the woods. He went through the trees, and sat on the grass to rest. Farther down, a streamlet gurgled sweetly, rolling its crystalline waters through the thick undergrowth.
In his mind, the Prince was counting how many more days he could feed his soldiers with Polydorus’s florins. And once they had consumed them all, what would they live on, workmen and soldiers alike?
“Oh, if only I had riches! Great riches!” he sighed with feeling.
“Well, make them,” said a female voice nearby.
“Knowledge!” cried the Prince.
He ran to the thick undergrowth, pushed the branches to the side, and saw Knowledge on her knees, washing clothes in the water of the stream.
“You did not expect to see me here?” she asked, smiling.
“No, your house is so far away! Why do you come here to do the washing?”
“We no longer live in the cottage, which was too close to the river,” replied Knowledge. “We left as soon as the enemy had crossed the borders, then came here and hid in the woods together with our cow, our chickens and anything else we were able to carry with us. But tell me now, what is it that distresses you?”