Stories and ballads for young folks

by Ellen Tracy Alden

And again there are music and dancing; and it is Rudolph, now, who is seated in state above the glittering throng, and all who approach him bow low and address him reverently—excepting one—a tall, gaunt personage, with muffled face, and piercing eyes, and long, black mantle, who steals up behind him and whispers, “Does Rudolph enjoy being Czar?” And Rudolph, remembering all, neither clasps his hands nor smiles.

At midnight, as Rudolph lies upon the downy couch with its silken folds and golden-fringed drapery, suddenly waking from slumber, he sees one standing over him with lifted sword; and he springs upon the assassin, and seizes his sword, and calls to the attendants, and has him put in irons; and this man makes confession, and reveals to the Czar a plot among the nobles against his life; then Rudolph causes some of those conspirators to be thrown into prison, and some to be beheaded; and, for further safety, the guard in the palace is increased. But not long after, again suddenly waking in the middle of the night, he sees another standing over him with lifted sword; and he springs upon this one also, and seizes his sword, and calls to the attendants, and has him bound with irons; and behold, when the lights are brought, this man is found to be one of the palace guard; and he, too, makes confession, and reveals to the Czar that all in the army are his foes and ready to take his life; then Rudolph sends out and causes some of the Generals and chief conspirators of the army to be imprisoned, and others to be beheaded; and, for further safety, he places his most faithful and trusty servant to watch in his chamber while he sleeps. But a third time, suddenly waking at midnight, he sees this servant standing over him with lifted sword; and him, too, he overpowers, and seizes the murderous weapon; and this man, also, confesses; and from him the Czar learns that all in the palace hate him and have plotted to take his life.

So it comes to pass that Rudolph, the Czar, dares not close his eyes day or night, for there is no one whom he can trust to protect him while he slumbers. And as the weeks and months wear away, he grows so haggard with watching, so weary for lack of sleep, that one morning, ere the sun has risen, and while all is hushed and silent, he casts aside the robe of ermine, and the golden crown and sceptre, and steals away from the palace, and out through the palace garden, and off to the fields beyond; and there, feeling secure, he lies down and closes his eyes, and is just falling into a delicious slumber, when the sound of stealthy footsteps arouses him, and looking up, behold one standing over him with lifted sword; and he springs up to defend himself, but the other turns and flees. Then he goes on till he reaches a wide forest, and thinking, “Surely no one will molest me here,” he lies down with a sigh of relief, and is just losing himself in sleep, when the howling of wolves disturbs him, and he is obliged to hurry onward, to escape being torn in pieces by those ferocious beasts.

When he reaches the plain at the other side of the forest, he perceives, at some distance, a group of huts, and saying, “Surely no one will know me there,” he approaches them and asks for lodging, and is shown to a rude chamber, where, just as he is about to lie down, he spies some object crouching among the shadows, and moving toward it, behold, a peasant armed with a glittering sword. And the wretched Czar departs in haste, saying, “My enemies are my own subjects;” and he pauses not till he is far beyond the boundaries of his own realm. Now at last in a country ruled by another, thinking, “I am surely safe,” he throws himself down by the wayside, faint and footsore; but just as sweet sleep is stealing over him, listen—a rustling, and look—a highwayman standing near with lifted sword; and he wearily moans, and, rising, hastens away.

At length he comes to a great city, and saying, “Surely none will know me or wish to harm me here,” he finds lodgings for the night, and lays himself down to rest, when lo! one approaches softly with lifted sword, and Rudolph, the Czar, recognizes the face of him he saw in the field beyond the palace garden. “Alas, he has followed me hither!” he cries, and hurriedly leaves the city.

And so, wherever he goes, he dares not sleep, either from fear of assassins, or of highwaymen, or of wild beasts. And so he wanders, and ever wanders on. And one day as he drags himself along, seeking a place to rest, he stops to drink from a fountain beside the path, and as he kneels over the smooth, mirror-like waters, he discovers that his locks are very white, and that his garments are thread-bare and torn. Still onward and onward he journeys, sleep the one thing that he longs for.

At last, as he emerges from the shadows of a dark defile between high mountains, he lifts his heavy, drooping eyelids, and beholds, spread out beyond, a valley far lovelier than any he has seen in all his journeyings. Slowly and gently it climbs up and into the purpling distance, with other valleys stepping down between the hills to meet it, and little hamlets nestling at the feet of those hills. And he says, “Surely in so peaceful a valley nothing can disturb me. I will get me to one of those villages and inquire for an inn, and there I will rest—there I will sleep, sleep, sleep.”

But just where the defile opens into the valley he encounters an armed sentinel, who steps forward and asks for his pass.

“I have no pass,” he answers.