‘Your comrade is a long way off by now; you had better see if you can overtake him.’
So the young man bowed and left the king’s presence, and followed after his friend on foot, for he had no horse. Night and day he ran, till at length he reached the place where the king’s son had pitched his tent, and sank down before him, a miserable object, worn out and covered with mud and dust. But the king’s son welcomed him with joy, and tended him as he would his brother.
And at last they came home again, and the queen was waiting and watching in the palace, as she had never ceased to do since her son had rode away. She almost died of joy at seeing him again, but after a little she remembered his sick friend, and ordered a bed to be made ready and the best doctors in all the country to be sent for. When they heard of the queen’s summons they flocked from all parts, but none could cure him. After everyone had tried and failed a servant entered and informed the queen that a strange old man had just knocked at the palace gate and declared that he was able to heal the dying youth. Now this was a holy man, who had heard of the trouble the king’s son was in, and had come to help.
It happened that at this very time a little daughter was born to the king’s son, but in his distress for his friend he had hardly a thought to spare for the baby. He could not be prevailed on to leave the sick bed, and he was bending over it when the holy man entered the room. ‘Do you wish your friend to be cured?’ asked the new comer of the king’s son. ‘And what price would you pay?’
‘What price?’ answered the king’s son; ‘only tell me what I can do to heal him.’
‘Listen to me, then,’ said the old man. ‘This evening you must take your child, and open her veins, and smear the wounds of your friend with her blood. And you will see, he will get well in an instant.’
