Prince Toldath stood before the King:
“Most gracious Majesty, I have come a long way from my golden kingdom on the Northern Shore. Through storms terrible even in imagination, over mountain-passes ventured never yet by bravest men, across the length of a desert which holds the bones of many of your gallant people have I travelled. Yet the prize I seek is worth a whole life spent in such journeys. My slaves lay before you a treasure which the gods themselves might dream of: those silks have come from far Cathay; Earth gave up her fairest secrets in revealing those priceless gems. Yet such a treasure is small indeed compared to that I now would ask of you. Most mighty King, my father is an old man, and it will not be long before his wide and rich domains are mine. As you very likely have been told, I am accredited one of the best swordsmen in our part of the world. And my distant travels have brought me a good measure of knowledge and wisdom. O great King, the prize I seek—my deepest and everlasting desire—is the hand of your only daughter!”
A hush was upon the court. All stared at this handsome prince who had come so far in quest of their fair princess. Here, indeed, was a suitor worthy at last. Brave and daring, he would succeed where so many before him had failed. Hilnardees for once should taste defeat. Slowly the King made answer—in the words he had addressed to numberless suitors in the past.
“Prince Toldath, we thank you for these lavish gifts which you have bestowed upon us. And we acknowledge the honor you pay us in asking for the hand of our only daughter. That your request may be granted depends upon one thing alone, and that simple enough. Listen with care: You shall travel eastward seven days, crossing the desert and plunging into a dense forest. At night you shall rest—except for the seventh night, when you shall push on after the fall of the sun. About the twelfth hour you will come to a narrow, rapid stream. The name of this river is Hilnardees, which means in our language ‘many-visioned’. On the west bank you will find a small boat. Push out into the darkness, and without effort you will be swept downstream with the current. It will not be far before you come to a place where the river branches into three parts. In the dark you will not know; the current will choose which one you shall follow. And each of these three streams in turn branches into three more. Each of those does the same, and so on indefinitely. Somewhere Hilnardees empties into the Sea—no man knows where nor in how many places. Before that, however, your boat will come to rest on the bank of one of the many branches. There you shall see a vision of your own life—a living symbol of what you yourself are. For Hilnardees is a blessed river, and the hand of the gods is upon it. Many who have pushed out in the current have never returned again to their homes, although rumors of their existence in other parts of the world have later been reported. Such has been the fate of most who have sought the hand of my daughter. Those who have come back have told of strange and fitful sights. Go, Prince Toldath, if your desire is as great as it was, and return to me, paddling slowly upstream and crossing the forest and desert as before. May your vision prove worthy of my daughter’s hand.”
Prince Toldath smilingly bowed to the King. Here surely was no difficult task, and the whole was likely enough a foolish legend. If there were any truth in it, he need not doubt of a successful pilgrimage. If not, he might invent all manner of splendid “visions” on his way back. Thus, on the following morning he confidently set forth.
All happened as the King had foretold. At midnight of the seventh day he came upon Hilnardees, river of many visions. By the bank he found a small boat in which he pushed out into the dark. Whether he was exhausted from his travel or the river cast some strange spell upon him I know not—nor did he. Many hours passed in dreams of his princess before he was finally awakened by the sudden jolt of the boat as it struck the sandy beach below the bank of the river. It was broad daylight and the sun was high in the heavens. Before him rose a flight of marble steps. Slowly realizing that he must have come to the end of his journey, he pulled his boat upon the shore and mounted the steps. It was a glorious sight that lay before him. Never in all his far travels had he seen such shining beauty. Babylon in all its splendor could not have been like this. Rushing through the open gates—completely forgetful of the purport of his journey, the Prince found himself within a marble city. With awed wonderment he walked through one street after another. At every turn the beauty of architecture and sculpture surpassed the dreams of the wildest poet. Towers and turrets on all sides sparkled in the sunlight. His unheeded steps led him shortly to a wide square at the center, where a fountain murmured as it played into a round pool. Then it was that suddenly the Prince realized that the fountain was the only sound he heard. The streets were empty. In his transfixed wonder he had not noticed the deep silence which was upon the city. Not even the cry of a bird was in the air. With ominous forebodings he entered one of the largest buildings—surely the palace of the king. The great door swung slowly open. Within was a grandeur and beauty akin to the exterior. No court in the world was the equal of this. Through room after room he marveled at the lavishness of paintings, and furniture, and ornament. Strangest of all, it seemed as though the palace had been built but yesterday. Time had left no touch upon it. So with the entire city. All was polished and shining—an ordered perfection.
Then fear seized upon the Prince. Wildly he dashed from the palace and shrieked aloud in the square. Only the taunting echo of his voice laughed back on all sides. Then the deep silence again. Turning, through one building after another he desperately, madly searched—only to find the same splendor, the same perfection. Finally, wearied, he sat by the edge of the fountain—the lone bit of life in the whole city. Gazing into the bright pool, he quickly laughed. Why, this was just a vision—a vision of himself! Of course! Now he understood! This beauty—this shining glory was his—his! Could any prince ask more? With a wild thrill of exultation, he ran through the gates down to the river, and leapt into his boat.
Ten days later Prince Toldath stood once more before the King. Dressed in his finest raiment, he smiled with easy confidence upon the assembled court. Indeed, the great hall was crowded to the full, for rumor had spread that Prince Toldath had seen a vision glorious enough to receive the hand of any princess.
“Prince Toldath,” said the King, “you have come back to our palace, having carried out in detail what directions we gave you?”
“I have, your Majesty.”