In reeking, foul-swept skies above the great ice-spires,
And view the cold-fraught land with last and mad proclaim.
Ebony and Ash
(A Tale of Three Wishes)
by Richard Ely Morse
The city lay stricken, in those streets where once the carnival had passed to the sound of lute and hautboy, now masquers of another sort held reign, gray Pestilence, and livid Fever, and black-hooded Death. The houses, so short a time ago bedecked with sweet-scented garlands and precious stuffs, stood bleak and shuttered above the echoing streets. Inside the people crouched, with staring eyes and hands that trembled. No more did song or dance fantastic make bright their chambers; prayer and fasting rather, penance for their sins. "Sackcloth and ashes," had the gray-robed friars thundered for many a year, and now were their warnings proved indeed.
But there were those who, having made a jest of life, would mock even at Death himself. In tall painted chambers they feasted, where peacocks stalked emerald and amethyst on marble floors, while the banished flute and hautboy murmured softly, and great candles guttered away into perfumed ruin. Wine and jewels and the white breasts of women against the pall of darkness outside. When the feast was ended the guests departed each to his home, hiding his face in a cloak nor looking to right or to left.
But there were three, greatly favored by fortune, who left the feast boldly and unafraid. Florian, Marius, and Leon, friends from childhood, scoffers who feared nothing of the dank and noisome streets. With lanterns of hammered brass in their hands and swords girded at waist they set out, singing a love song, a sugared trifle more befitting to some pleached alley than to this seething night. They had gone but a short way before they came upon an aged crone who feebly leaned beside an empty pedestal. A thousand years seemed lined within the wrinkles of her face, but her eyes were young.
Bidding them stop she cried that she, who ever loved bold youth, would grant to each one wish if such he should choose to ask of her. Believing her mad, yet willing to humor the fancies of a disordered mind, they wished. Florian spoke first and begged that all the wealth within the teeming world be his. Marius next bespoke the fairest of women for his love. Leon last, and hesitating—sought happiness to be his boon. Then laughing they passed on, and coming to the square, parted, each for his home.