“Don’t mind that,” said the old man. “You must ask me to do something. I never lost a bet yet that I wasn’t able to pay it.”
As I said, the King’s son thought that it was a silly old man that was in it, and to satisfy him he said to him, “Take the head off my stepmother and put a goat’s head on her for a week.”
“I’ll do that for you,” said the grey old man. The King’s son went a-riding on his horse—
His hound at his foot,
His hawk on his hand—
and he faced for another place, and never thought more about the grey old man until he came home.
He found a cry and great grief in the castle. The servants told him that an enchanter had come into the room where the Queen was, and had put a goat’s head on her in place of her own head.
“By my hand, but that’s a wonderful thing,” says the King’s son. “If I had been at home I’d have whipt the head off him with my sword.”
There was great grief on the King, and he sent for a wise councillor, and asked him did he know how the thing happened to the Queen.
“Indeed, I cannot tell you that,” said he; “it’s a work of enchantment.”
The King’s son did not let on that he had any knowledge of the matter, but on the morrow morning he went out—