OF all the people who did not like Prigio, his own dear papa, King
Grognio, disliked him most. For the king knew he was not clever himself.
When he was in the counting-house, counting out his money, and when he
happened to say, “Sixteen shillings and fourteen and twopence are three
pounds, fifteen,” it made him wild to hear Prigio whisper, “One pound,
ten and twopence,”--which, of course, it _is_. And the king was afraid
that Prigio would conspire, and get made king himself--which was the
last thing Prigio really wanted. He much preferred to idle about, and
know everything without seeming to take any trouble.
Well, the king thought and thought. How was he to get Prigio out of the
way, and make Enrico or Alphonso his successor? He read in books about
it; and all the books showed that, if a king sent his three sons to do
anything, it was always the youngest who did it, and got the crown. And
he wished he had the chance. Well, it arrived at last.
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There was a very hot summer! It began to be hot in March.’ All the
rivers were dried up. The grass did not grow. The corn did not grow. The
thermometers exploded with heat. The barometers stood at Set Fair. The
people were much distressed, and came and broke the palace win-dows--as
they usually do when things go wrong in Pantouflia.
The king consulted the learned men about the Court, who told him that
probably a FIREDRAKE was in the neighbourhood.
Now, the Firedrake is a beast, or bird, about the bigness of an
elephant. Its body is made of iron, and it is always red-hot. A more
terrible and cruel beast cannot be imagined; for, if you go near it, you
are at once broiled by the Firedrake.
But the king was not ill-pleased: “for,” thought he, “of course my three
sons must go after the brute, the eldest first; and, as usual, it will
kill the first two, and be beaten by the youngest. It is a little hard
on Enrico, poor boy; but _anything_ to get rid of that Prigio!”
Then the king went to Prigio, and said that his country was in danger,
and that he was determined to leave the crown to whichever of them would
bring him the horns (for it has horns) and tail of the Firedrake.
“It is an awkward brute to tackle,” the king said, “but you are the
oldest, my lad; go where glory waits you! Put on your armour, and be off
with you!”
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This the king said, hoping that either the Firedrake would roast Prince
Prigio alive (which he could easily do, as I have said; for he is all
over as hot as a red-hot poker), or that, if the prince succeeded, at
least his country would be freed from the monster.
But the prince, who was lying on the sofa doing sums in compound
division, for fun, said in the politest way:
“Thanks to the education your majesty has given me, I have learned that
the Firedrake, like the siren, the fairy, and so forth, is a fabulous
animal which does not exist. But even granting, for the sake of
argument, that there is a Firedrake, your majesty is well aware that
there is no kind of use in sending _me_. It is always the eldest son who
goes out first, and comes to grief on these occasions, and it is always
the third son that succeeds. Send Alphonso” (this was the youngest
brother), “and _he_ will do the trick at once. At least, if he fails, it
will be most unusual, and Enrico can try his luck.”
Then he went back to his arithmetic and his slate, and the king had to
send for Prince Alphonso and Prince Enrico. They both came in very warm;
for they had been whipping tops, and the day was unusually hot.
“Look here,” said the king, “just you two younger ones look at Prigio!
You see how hot it is, and how coolly he takes it, and the country
suffering; and all on account of a Firedrake, you know, which has
apparently built his nest not far off. Well, I have asked that lout of a
brother of yours to kill it, and he says--”
“That he does not believe in Firedrakes,” interrupted Prigio, “The
weather’s warm enough without going out hunting!”
“Not believe in Firedrakes!” cried Alphonso. “I wonder what you _do_
believe in! Just let me get at the creature!” for he was as brave as
a lion. “Hi! Page, my chain-armour, helmet, lance, and buckler! _A
Molinda! A Molinda!_” which was his _war-cry_.
The page ran to get the armour; but it was_ so uncommonly hot_ that he
dropped it, and put his fingers in his mouth, crying!
“You had better put on flannels, Alphonso, for this kind of work,” said
Prigio. “And if I were you, I’d take a light garden-engine, full of
water, to squirt at the enemy.”
“Happy thought!” said Alphonso. “I will!” And off he went, kissed his
dear Molinda, bade her keep a lot of dances for him (there was to be
a dance when he had killed the Firedrake), and then he rushed to the
field!
But he never came back any more!
Everyone wept bitterly--everyone but Prince Prigio; for he thought it
was a practical joke, and said that Alphonso had taken the opportunity
to start off on his travels and see the world.
“There is some dreadful mistake, sir,” said Prigio to the king. “You
know as well as I do that the youngest son has always succeeded, up to
now. But I entertain great hopes of Enrico!”
And he grinned; for he fancied it was all _nonsense_, and that there
were no Firedrakes.
Enrico was present when Prigio was consoling the king in this unfeeling
way.
“Enrico, my boy,” said his majesty, “the task awaits you, and the
honour. When _you_ come back with the horns and tail of the Fire-drake,
you shall be crown prince; and Prigio shall be made an usher at the
Grammar School--it is all he is fit for.”
Enrico was not quite so confident as Alphonso had been. He insisted on
making his will; and he wrote a poem about the pleasures and advantages
of dying young. This is part of it:
The violet is a blossom sweet,
That droops before the day is done--
Slain by thine overpowering heat, O Sun!
And I, like that sweet purple flower,
May roast, or boil, or broil, or bake,
If burned by thy terrific power, Firedrake!
This poem comforted Enrico more or less, and he showed it to Prigio. But
the prince only laughed, and said that the second line of the last verse
was not very good; for violets do not “roast, or boil, or broil, or
bake.”
Enrico tried to improve it, but could not. So he read it to his cousin,
Lady Kathleena, just as it was; and she cried over it (though I don’t
think she understood it); and Enrico cried a little, too.
However, next day he started, with a spear, a patent refrigerator, and a
lot of the bottles people throw at fires to put them out.
But _he_ never came back again!
After shedding torrents of tears, the king summoned Prince Prigio to his
presence.
“Dastard!” he said. “Poltroon! _Your_ turn, which should have come
first, has arrived at last. _You_ must fetch me the horns and the tail
of the Fired rake. Probably you will be grilled, thank goodness; but who
will give me back Enrico and Alphonso?”
“Indeed, your majesty,” said Prigio, “you must permit me to correct your
policy. Your only reason for dispatching your sons in pursuit of this
dangerous but I believe _fabulous_ animal, was to ascertain which of us
would most worthily succeed to your throne, at the date--long may it
be deferred!--of your lamented decease. Now, there can be no further
question about the matter. I, unworthy as I am, represent the sole hope
of the royal family. Therefore to send me after the Firedrake were* both
dangerous and unnecessary. Dangerous, because, if he treats me as you
say he did my brothers--my unhappy brothers,--the throne of Pantouflia
will want an heir. But, if I do come back alive--why, I cannot be more
the true heir than I am at present; now _can_ I? Ask the Lord Chief
Justice, if you don’t believe _me_.”
* Subjunctive mood! He was a great grammarian!
These arguments were so clearly and undeniably correct that the king,
unable to answer them, withdrew into a solitary place where he could
express himself with freedom, and give rein to his passions.
[Illustration: Chapter Four]