Scarcely had he left the town behind him when he came to a broad river
which no man might pass, for he was standing at the end of the world,
and this was the river which flowed round it. Not knowing what to do
next, he walked a little distance up the bank, and there, over his
head, a beautiful city was floating in the air. He longed to get to it,
but how? neither road nor bridge was anywhere to be seen, yet the city
drew him upwards, and he felt that here at last was the country which
he sought. Suddenly he remembered the golden rod which the mist-veiled
queen had given him. With a beating heart he flung it to the ground,
wishing with all his might that it should turn into a bridge, and
fearing that, after all, this might prove beyond its power. But no,
instead of the rod, there stood a golden ladder, leading straight up to
the city of the air. He was about to enter the golden gates, when there
sprang at him a wondrous beast, whose like he had never seen. “Out
sword from the sheath,” cried the prince, springing back with a cry.
And the sword leapt from the scabbard and cut off some of the monster’s
heads, but others grew again directly, so that the prince, pale with
terror, stood where he was, calling for help, and put his sword back in
the sheath again.
The queen of the city heard the noise and looked from her window to see
what was happening. Summoning one of her servants, she bade him go and
rescue the stranger, and bring him to her. The prince thankfully obeyed
her orders, and entered her presence.
The moment she looked at him, the queen also felt that he was no
ordinary man, and she welcomed him graciously, and asked him what had
brought him to the city. In answer the prince told all his story, and
how he had travelled long and far in search of the Land of Immortality.
“You have found it,” said she, “for I am queen over life and over
death. Here you can dwell among the immortals.”
A thousand years had passed since the prince first entered the city,
but they had flown so fast that the time seemed no more than six
months. There had not been one instant of the thousand years that the
prince was not happy till one night when he dreamed of his father and
mother. Then the longing for his home came upon him with a rush, and in
the morning he told the Queen of the Immortals that he must go and see
his father and mother once more. The queen stared at him with
amazement, and cried: “Why, prince, are you out of your senses? It is
more than eight hundred years since your father and mother died! There
will not even be their dust remaining.”
“I must go all the same,” said he.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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