The Hero

Mother, let us imagine we are travelling, and passing through astrange and dangerous country.     You are riding in a palanquin and I am trotting by you on ared horse.     It is evening and the sun goes down.

The waste of Joradighilies wan and grey before us.

The land is desolate and barren.     You are frightened and thinking-"I know not where we have cometo."     I say to you, "Mother, do not be afraid."     The meadow is prickly with spiky grass, and through it runsa narrow broken path.     There are no cattle to be seen in the wide field; they havegone to their village stalls.     It grows dark and dim on the land and sky, and we cannot tellwhere we are going.     Suddenly you call me and ask me in a whisper, "What light isthat near the bank?"     Just then there bursts out a fearful yell, and figures comerunning towards us.     You sit crouched in your palanquin and repeat the names of thegods in prayer.     The bearers, shaking in terror, hide themselves in the thornybush.     I shout to you, "Don't be afraid, mother.

I am here."     With long sticks in their hands and hair all wild about theirheads, they come nearer and nearer.     I shout, "Have a care, you villains!

One step more and you aredead men."     They give another terrible yell and rush forward.     You clutch my hand and say, "Dear boy, for heaven's sake, keepaway from them."     I say, "Mother, just you watch me."     Then I spur my horse for a wild gallop, and my sword andbuckler clash against each other.     The fight becomes so fearful, mother, that it would give youa cold shudder could you see it from your palanquin.     Many of them fly, and a great number are cut to pieces.     I know you are thinking, sitting all by yourself, that yourboy must be dead by this time.     But I come to you all stained with blood, and say,"Mother, thefight is over now."     You come out and kiss me, pressing me to your heart, and yousay to yourself,     "I don't know what I should do if I hadn't my boy to escortme."     A thousand useless things happen day after day, and whycouldn't such a thing come true by chance?     It would be like a story in a book.     My brother would say, "Is it possible?

I always thought he wasso delicate!"     Our village people would all say in amazement, "Was it notlucky that the boy was with his mother?"