“How can we get into Sir Kato’s castle?” whispered Pompoo. “How can we get into the blackest castle in the world?”
As soon as he said this, a door opened in the wall— a black door opened silently beside us. Not a sound was heard. The silence was vast and terrible, as no other silence. If only the door had creaked at least once when it opened! If the hinges had squeaked slightly, then it wouldn’t have been so frightening. But this was the most silent of all doors.
Pompoo and I walked hand in hand into Sir Kato’s castle. And we felt small and scared as never before.
No darkness was ever this sinister, no cold so bitter, no silence as evil as in Sir Kato’s castle.
From the door a small, dark, winding stairway led upward. It was the tallest and darkest stairway I’d ever seen.
“If only the darkness weren’t so frightening,” whispered Pompoo. “If only Sir Kato weren’t so cruel and we weren’t so small and alone.”
I gripped my sword and we crept up the stairs; I went first and Pompoo followed.
In my dreams, sometimes I used to walk through a dark house—an unknown, dark, frightening house. I was shut in a black room, so that I couldn’t breathe, and the floor opened up to swallow me into its black depths, and the stairs gave way so that I fell. But the house in my dreams was not as scary as Sir Kato’s castle.
We walked and walked up the winding stairs, and we didn’t know what we’d find at the top.
“Mio, I’m scared,” whispered Pompoo behind me. I turned to take his hand, but at that moment Pompoo disappeared. He disappeared through the wall without me understanding how it happened. I was left alone on the stairs, a thousand times more alone than when we lost each other in the Swordsmith’s mountain, a thousand times more alone than ever before. I didn’t dare shout, but with trembling hands I felt the surface of the wall where Pompoo disappeared. I cried and whispered, “Pompoo, where are you? Pompoo, come back!”
But the wall was cold and hard under my hands. There wasn’t a crack that Pompoo could have slipped through. And all was quiet, as before. No Pompoo answered, while I whispered and wept, all was quiet.
Surely no one in the world was as alone as I, when I started back up the stairs. Surely no one’s steps were as heavy as mine. I had almost no energy to lift my feet, and the steps were so tall and there were so many.
So many, but one of them was the last. I didn’t know it was the last. I didn’t know which step was at the end, I didn’t know, as I went up the stairs in the darkness. I took a step and nothing was under my foot. I screamed and fell, and as I fell I tried to find something to hold on to. As I fell, I managed to catch hold of the top step. I hung there, struggling and feeling with my feet for something to stand on. But there was nothing. I was hanging over a black bottomless pit. I was so scared and there was no one to help. Soon I’ll fall down, I thought, and it will be the end. . . . “Oh! Help me someone, help me!” I cried.
Someone came up the stairs. Was it Pompoo?
“Pompoo, please Pompoo, help me!” I whispered.
I couldn’t see him, it was so dark. I couldn’t see his kind face and his eyes that were like Ben’s.
“Yes, yes. Take my hand, and I will help you,” whispered the one I believed was Pompoo. “Take my hand, and I will help you!”
And I took his hand. But it was not a hand. It was a claw of iron!
I Never Saw a More Fearsome Sword in My Castle
IN TIME I may forget him. In time I may forget Sir Kato. I will forget his terrible face and his terrible eyes and his terrible claw of iron. I long for that day, when I won’t remember him any more. Then I will be able to forget his dreadful room, too.
He had a room in his castle where the air was thick with evil. Because it was the room where Sir Kato sat night and day and conceived his evil plans. Night and day, night and day he sat there and plotted. The air was so full of evil that no one could breathe in his room. This evilness flowed swiftly outside, killing all that was beautiful and alive and it withered away all the green leaves and flowers and soft grass. It spread, an evil veil across the sun, so that there was no real day but only night, or something like night. It’s not surprising that the window of this room blazed like an evil eye over the waters of the Dead Lake. Sir Kato’s evil blazed through the window as he worked on his vile plans. Night and day, night and day he sat there and plotted.
It was to this room that I was brought. Sir Kato had caught me when I needed both hands to hold myself up, and couldn’t use my sword. His black spies seized me and dragged me to his room. Pompoo already stood there. He was so pale and weak, and he whispered, “Oh, Mio, it’s the end.”
Sir Kato came in and we saw his cruelty. We stood before his horrible face, he was silent and just stared at us. And his evilness ran over us like an icy river and his evilness crept over us like a burning fire, then it crept over our faces and our hands and stung our eyes, and it flowed down into our lungs as we tried to breathe. I felt his cruelty wash over me and I became so tired and I did not have enough strength left to lift my sword no matter how hard I tried. The spies passed my sword to Sir Kato and he caught his breath when he saw it.
“I never saw a more fearsome sword in my castle,” he said to the spies as he looked around.
He went over to the window and stood there weighing the sword in his hand.
“What shall I do with this sword?” said Sir Kato. “The good and the innocent will not die from this sword. What shall I do with it?”
He watched me with cruel eyes and he saw how much I longed for my sword.
“I will sink this sword in the Dead Lake,” said Sir Kato. “I will sink it in the deepest part of the Dead Lake, for I have never ever seen a more fearsome sword in my castle.”
He lifted the sword and hurled it out the window. I saw it spinning through the air and I was heartbroken. For thousands and thousands of years the Swordsmith had forged this sword which could cut through stone. For thousands and thousands of years people had waited, hoping that I would vanquish Sir Kato. And now he was throwing my sword into the Dead Lake. I would never see it again and it was the end.
Sir Kato came and stood before us and his evilness nearly smothered me, since he was so close.
“What should I do now with these enemies of mine?” said Sir Kato. “What should I do with these enemies who have traveled so far to kill me? I could turn them into birds and let them fly over the Dead Lake to wail for thousands and thousands of years.” He gazed at us with cruel eyes, as he pondered our fate.
“Yes, I could turn them into birds,” he said. “Or—I could rip out their hearts and give them hearts of stone. I could make them my little servants, if I give them hearts of stone.”
“Oh, I’d rather be a bird,” I almost shouted to him. Because I thought nothing could be worse than to have a heart of stone. But I said nothing. I knew that if I asked to be a bird, Sir Kato would give me a heart of stone.
Sir Kato looked up and down at us with his cruel eyes.
“Or I could throw them in the tower to die of hunger,” he said. “I have enough birds, I have enough servants. I think I’ll throw these prisoners into the tower and let them die of hunger.”
He walked a few steps forward and then back across the floor, thinking deeply, and each thought made the air thicker with evil.
“In my castle you will die of hunger in a single night,” he said. “In my castle, the night is so long and the hunger so great, that you will die in a single night.”
He stopped before me and put his horrible claw of iron on my shoulder.
“I knew it was you, Prince Mio,” he said. “I knew you had come the moment I saw your white colt. I sat here and waited for you. And you came. You believed this would be the night of our battle.”
He bent down and hissed in my ear, “You thought this would be the night of our battle, but you were wrong Prince Mio. This is your night of hunger. And when the night is over, only small white bones will lay in my tower. That??
?s all that will be left of Prince Mio and his squire.”
He pounded his iron claw on a large stone table in the middle of the floor, and a line of spies came in.
“Throw them into the tower!” he said as he pointed to us with his iron claw. “Throw them in the tower with seven locks! Put seven spies to guard the door, put seventy-seven spies to guard the halls and stairs and corridors between the tower and my room.”
He sat down at the table.
“I will sit here in peace to plan my evil deeds, with no more disruptions from Prince Mio. When the night is over I will go and take a glance at the small white bones in my tower. Farewell, Prince Mio! Sleep well in my Tower of Hunger!”
The spies seized Pompoo and me and took us through the halls of the castle to the tower, where we were to die. And everywhere, in all of the halls and corridors, the spies guarded the path between the tower and Sir Kato’s room. Was he so scared of me, Sir Kato, that he needed so many guards? Was he so scared of me without my sword, behind seven locks, and with seven guards outside the door?
The spies held our arms tightly as we walked toward our prison. We walked and walked through the dark, massive castle. In one place we passed a barred window, and through the window we could see into the courtyard of the castle. In the middle of the courtyard stood a horse chained to a pole. It was a black horse with a small black foal at its side. It hurt me to see the horses. It made me think of Miramis, whom I would never see again, and I wondered what they had done to him. Maybe he was dead. But a spy pulled my arm and forced me on and I had no more time to think of Miramis.
We reached the tower where we would spend our last night. The heavy iron doors opened and we were thrown in. The doors shut behind us with a crash, and we heard the spies turn the keys in seven locks. We were alone in our prison, Pompoo and I.
It was a round room, our prison, with thick stone walls. There was a little hole set with strong iron bars, and through these bars we heard the Bewitched Birds wail over the Dead Lake.
We sat on the floor. We felt so small and frightened, and knew we would die before the night was over.
“If only it weren’t so hard to die,” said Pompoo. “If only it weren’t so hard, so hard to die and that we weren’t so small and alone.”
We held each other’s hands. Tight, so tight we held each other’s hands, as we sat on the cold stone floor. Hunger came over us, and it was a hunger unlike any other hunger. It gnawed at us, and tore and pulled at us draining away every ounce of strength from our blood. We wanted to sleep and never wake again. But we fought against sleep. We tried to remain awake as long as we could and began to talk of Farawayland, while we waited to die.
I thought of my father the King and tears came to my eyes. But hunger had already made me so weak and the tears flowed silently down my cheek. Pompoo cried too, quietly like I did.
“If only Farawayland weren’t such a long way from here,” whispered Pompoo. “If only Greenfields Island weren’t so far and we weren’t so small and alone.”
“Do you remember when we played our flutes, walking over the hills of Greenfields Island?” I said. “Do you remember it, Pompoo?”
“Yes, but it was so long ago,” said Pompoo.
“We can play our flutes here, too,” I said. “We can play the old melody, until hunger overtakes us and we fall asleep.”
“Yes, let’s play once more,” whispered Pompoo.
We took out our flutes. Our tired hands scarcely had the strength to grasp them, but we played the old melody. Pompoo cried so much as he played, tears ran quietly down his cheeks. Maybe I cried as much, I don’t know. The old melody was beautiful, but sounded so faint, as if it knew that before long it would also die. Although we played quietly, the Bewitched Birds heard us. They heard the faint notes and flew over to our small window. Through the bars I saw their blank, melancholy eyes. But the birds disappeared and we had no strength to continue playing.
“Now we’ve played for the last time,” I said as I stuffed the flute back in my pocket.
There was something else in my pocket and I stuck my hand down to feel what it was. It was the little spoon that had belonged to Totty’s sister.
I wished the Bewitched Birds would come back, so I could show them the spoon. Perhaps Totty’s sister would recognize it. But the Bewitched Birds were no longer in front of our small window.
I let the spoon fall to the floor, since my hand was so tired.
“Look, Pompoo,” I said. “We have a spoon.”
“We have a spoon,” said Pompoo, “but what will we do with the spoon, when we have no food?”
Pompoo lay down on the floor and shut his eyes. He had no strength to say more. I was tired, so tired. I ached for something to eat. Anything, absolutely anything would do, as long as it was edible. Most of all I longed for the Bread That Satisfies Hunger, but I knew that I would never taste it again. I was also thirsty and longed for water from the Well That Quenches Thirst. But I knew that I would never drink again. Never drink, never eat again. I thought about the porridge that Aunt Hulda had given me every morning which I thought was bad. I would’ve eaten that porridge now and thought that it was good. Oh, I wanted something to eat . . . anything! With my last ounce of strength I grabbed the spoon and stuffed it in my mouth and pretended that I ate.
I felt something wonderful in my mouth. There was something in the spoon to eat. Something that tasted like the Bread That Satisfies Hunger and like the water from the Well That Quenches Thirst. Bread and water were in the spoon and it had the most wonderful taste. It replenished my strength and my hunger disappeared. Strangely enough, the spoon did not become empty. It filled completely with more food each time I ate, and I ate until I could eat no more.
Pompoo lay on the floor with his eyes shut. I placed the spoon in his mouth and he ate in his sleep. He lay there with his eyes shut and ate. When he finished, he said, “Oh, Mio, I had such a wonderful dream. The dream will make it easier to die. I dreamed of the Bread That Satisfies Hunger.”
“It wasn’t a dream,” I said.
Pompoo opened his eyes and sat up. He knew that he still lived and was no longer hungry. We were both amazed, almost content in our misery.
“But what will Sir Kato do with us, since we haven’t died of hunger?” said Pompoo.
“If only he doesn’t give us hearts of stone,” I said. “I’m afraid of having a heart of stone. I think it would grind painfully in my chest.”
“The night isn’t over,” said Pompoo. “Sir Kato won’t be here for hours. Let’s sit here and talk of Farawayland, as the hours go by. Let’s sit close together and keep each other warm.”
It was so cold in the tower and we were freezing. My cloak slipped off. It was lying on the floor and I grabbed it and wrapped it around myself. My cloak that the Weaver had lined with fairy cloth.
That instant I heard a cry from Pompoo, “Mio! Mio, where are you?”
“I’m here,” I said. “By the door.”
Pompoo held up the small candle we’d been given for light during our final night. It shone in every direction and he looked so scared, totally scared.
“I can’t see you,” said Pompoo, “and I haven’t become blind because I see the door with its strong lock and everything else in our prison.”
Then I noticed I had put my cloak on inside out. The shimmering fairy cloth lining that the Weaver had given me was turned outwards. I took off my cloak to turn it the right way and Pompoo cried out.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” he said. “Where were you hiding?”
“Do you see me now?” I asked.
“Of course I see you,” said Pompoo. “Where were you hiding?”
“In my cloak,” I said. “The Weaver must’ve turned it into an Invisibility Cloak.”
We tried it several times. Whenever the fairy cloth lining was on the outside, my cloak became an Invisibility Cloak.
“Let’s yell as loud as we can,” said Pompoo. “Maybe the spies will come in t
o see why we’re shouting. Then you can sneak past them. You can sneak out of Sir Kato’s castle in your Invisibility Cloak and go home safely to Farawayland.”
“And you, Pompoo?” I said.
“I must stay behind,” said Pompoo and his voice quavered slightly. “You only have one Invisibility Cloak.”
“I only have one Invisibility Cloak,” I said, “and I only have one friend. We’ll die together if we both can’t be saved.”
Pompoo put his arm around me and said, “I’d love for you to be safe at home in Farawayland, but I’m glad you want to stay with me. I can’t help it.”
Just as he said that, something strange happened. The Bewitched Birds were heading back, as their wings beat swiftly towards our window. They held something with their beaks. All the birds helped carry it. It was something heavy. It was a sword. It was my sword that could cut through stone.
“Oh, Mio,” said Pompoo, “the Bewitched Birds have brought your sword up from the bottom of the Dead Lake.”
I sprang to the window, stuck my eager hands through the bars and grasped my sword. It blazed as if on fire. The water flowed down, the drops glistening like fire.
“Thank you all, kind birds,” I said.
But the birds only stared at me with blank, melancholy eyes and they flew with sad cries back over the Dead Lake.
“Oh, I’m so glad we played our flutes,” said Pompoo. “Or the birds would’ve never found the way to our tower.”
I hardly heard him. I stood there with the sword in my hand. My sword, my Flame of Fire! I felt so strong, as never before in my life. There was a rush and a roar inside my head. I thought of my father the King, and knew he was thinking of me.
“Now, Pompoo,” I said, “now comes Sir Kato’s last battle.”
Pompoo became so pale and his eyes glittered strangely.
“How will you open the seven locks?” he said. “How will you get past the seventy-seven spies?”