One stormy night as Offero stood behind the throne, a minstrel came to play his harp before the king. He sang of war, of dangers and temptations; and Offero stood drinking in with all his heart the music and the story. But the king fidgeted in his great chair, and Offero could see his gold crown tremble. One hand would grip the carved, gilt lion by his side, while the other made a nervous sign upon his forehead.
Offero watched, troubled. It was when the minstrel sang of Satan that the king shuddered. It was at that name he made the sign upon his forehead.
When the minstrel had done, and the courtiers had taken their leave, Offero knelt before the throne. “Oh, king,” he cried, “why did you shake at Satan’s name?—you who are afraid of no one!”
The king smiled sadly. “Ah, Offero,” he said, “the mightiest monarch of the earth must fear Satan. For he is more powerful than any king of us all; and only that sign of the cross can save us from him.”
Offero sprang up, his huge shadow darkening the throne.
“Then you are not the greatest king!” he thundered. “Farewell. I go to serve him whom you fear,—King Satan!”
And like a cyclone Offero was gone through the palace gate.
All night he strode through the storm; and when day cleared, he found himself on a wide, pleasant road thronged with people all going down a hill.
“Ho, there!” shouted Offero from his height. “Can any of you tell me the way to King Satan?”