‘Now,’ says he, ‘we must stay here till night comes; for I know all the
ways of the place, and if there be any chance for it, it is when they
are all at rest; for the steed is all the watch the knight keeps
there.’
Accordingly, in the dead hour of the night, the King’s three sons and
the Thief of Sloan attempted the Steed of Bells in order to carry him
away, but before they could reach the stables the steed neighed most
terribly and shook himself so, and the bells rung with such noise, that
the knight and all his men were up in a moment.
The Black Thief and the King’s sons thought to make their escape, but
they were suddenly surrounded by the knight’s guards and taken
prisoners; where they were brought into that dismal part of the palace
where the knight kept a furnace always boiling, in which he threw all
offenders that ever came in his way, which in a few moments would
entirely consume them.
‘Audacious villains!’ says the Knight of the Glen, ‘how dare you
attempt so bold an action as to steal my steed? See, now, the reward of
your folly; for your greater punishment I will not boil you all
together, but one after the other, so that he that survives may witness
the dire afflictions of his unfortunate companions.’
So saying he ordered his servants to stir up the fire: ‘We will boil
the eldest-looking of these young men first,’ said he, ‘and so on to
the last, which will be this old champion with the black cap. He seems
to be the captain, and looks as if he had come through many toils.’
‘I was as near death once as the prince is yet,’ says the Black Thief,
‘and escaped; and so will he too.’
‘No, you never were,’ said the knight; ‘for he is within two or three
minutes of his latter end.’
‘But,’ says the Black Thief, ‘I was within one moment of my death, and
I am here yet.’
‘How was that?’ says the knight; ‘I would be glad to hear it, for it
seems impossible.’
‘If you think, sir knight,’ says the Black Thief, ‘that the danger I
was in surpasses that of this young man, will you pardon him his
crime?’
‘I will,’ says the knight, ‘so go on with your story.’
‘I was, sir,’ says he, ‘a very wild boy in my youth, and came through
many distresses; once in particular, as I was on my rambling, I was
benighted and could find no lodging. At length I came to an old kiln,
and being much fatigued I went up and lay on the ribs. I had not been
long there when I saw three witches coming in with three bags of gold.
Each put their bags of gold under their heads, as if to sleep. I heard
one of them say to the other that if the Black Thief came on them while
they slept, he would not leave them a penny. I found by their discourse
that everybody had got my name into their mouth, though I kept silent
as death during their discourse. At length they fell fast asleep, and
then I stole softly down, and seeing some turf convenient, I placed one
under each of their heads, and off I went, with their gold, as fast as
I could.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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