“Be it so,” replied Radpot, not without some asperity. “I would not suffer the trial, could I suspect it possible the queen could be capable of so horrible a plot as you evidently suppose; but I cannot believe it—so give the cordial to your horse.”
Rathgeb took the vial, and poured not more than three drops on the tongue of his thirsty beast. Both watched the effect with a tension akin to awe.
In the first few moments no change was apparent, but Radpot was too generous to give utterance to the triumph he began to experience.
Suddenly the faithful beast started as if it had been transfixed with the sharpest arrow, directed one piteous look towards the master it had served so well, and fell down lifeless by the side of its companion.
“There is no doubt it is as you say,” Radpot now confessed, at once. “Forgive me for the haste with which I spoke.”
“Nay, prince, there is no need of excuse. Though it behoved me to stand on guard and see no harm befell you, it became you to trust her whose duty it was to befriend, not to harm you.”
“And now try this cordial of mine, maybe it will fulfil what the other promised.”
The prince gladly accepted the proffered gift; and both, wonderfully restored by its effects, continued their journey on foot.
They had not gone far when three ravens passed them on the wing. The prince and his companion turned back to watch their flight, and saw them alight on the carrion of their dead horses, immediately after tasting of which they all three fell to the earth dead, by the side of the dead horses.
“There may be some profit to be gained from these,” said Rathgeb; and going back to the spot, he picked up the dead ravens and took them with him.