The Salt Of Life
by
Once upon a time there was a king who had three sons, and by the time that the youngest prince had down upon his chin the king had grown so old that the cares of the kingdom began to rest over-heavily upon his shoulders. So he called his chief councillor and told him that he was of a mind to let the princes reign in his stead. To the son who loved him the best he would give the largest part of his kingdom, to the son who loved him the next best the next part, and to the son who loved him the least the least part. The old councillor was very wise and shook his head, but the king’s mind had long been settled as to what he was about to do. So he called the princes to him one by one and asked each as to how much he loved him.
“I love you as a mountain of gold,” said the oldest prince, and the king was very pleased that his son should give him such love.
“I love you as a mountain of silver,” said the second prince, and the king was pleased with that also.
But when the youngest prince was called, he did not answer at first, but thought and thought. At last he looked up. “I love you,” said he, “as I love salt.”
When the king heard what his youngest son said he was filled with anger. “What!” he cried, “do you love me no better than salt–a stuff that is the most bitter of all things to the taste, and the cheapest and the commonest of all things in the world? Away with you, and never let me see your face again! Henceforth you are no son of mine.”
The prince would have spoken, but the king would not allow him, and bade his guards thrust the young man forth from the room.
Now the queen loved the youngest prince the best of all her sons, and when she heard how the king was about to drive him forth into the wide world to shift for himself, she wept and wept. “Ah, my son!” said she to him, “it is little or nothing that I have to give you. Nevertheless, I have one precious thing. Here is a ring; take it and wear it always, for so long as you have it upon your finger no magic can have power over you.”
Thus it was that the youngest prince set forth into the wide world with little or nothing but a ring upon his finger.
For seven days he travelled on, and knew not where he was going or whither his footsteps led. At the end of that time he came to the gates of a town. The prince entered the gates, and found himself in a city the like of which he had never seen in his life before for grandeur and magnificence–beautiful palaces and gardens, stores and bazaars crowded with rich stuffs of satin and silk and wrought silver and gold of cunningest workmanship; for the land to which he had come was the richest in all of the world. All that day he wandered up and down, and thought nothing of weariness and hunger for wonder of all that he saw. But at last evening drew down, and he began to bethink himself of somewhere to lodge during the night.
Just then he came to a bridge, over the wall of which leaned an old man with a long white beard, looking down into the water. He was dressed richly but soberly, and every now and then he sighed and groaned, and as the prince drew near he saw the tears falling–drip, drip–from the old man’s eyes.
The prince had a kind heart, and could not bear to see one in distress; so he spoke to the old man, and asked him his trouble.