Alas! how easily do we credit falsehood, how readily do we believe that every one is as wicked as ourselves. The king believed the words of Plebeus. He called his preserver before him, charged him with treason, and upbraided him with ingratitude.
“Go,” said he, “leave my court. I have honored thee much, I would have honored thee yet more. Now I give thee thy life in return for the valiant blows you struck for me; go in peace, but in poverty.”
“Miserable creature that I am,” murmured Sir Tyrius; “whither shall I flee in this my abject poverty?”
Sadly and slowly he wandered on, his eyes cast down, his hands crossed upon his breast. At last he sat down by the way-side.
“Friend,” said a tall pilgrim, whose careworn look showed how long he had been journeying, “friend, whence comest thou?”
“Father,” replied Tyrius, “I am of Rome; years have I lived in this land, and now I seek another home. Years have passed since my companion parted with me but a few miles from here; he sought the Holy Land, and whether he be dead or alive I know not.”
“Friend,” replied the palmer, “I am wearied; suffer me, by the memory of your friend, I pray you, suffer me to repose my head on your knees, that I may sleep awhile.”
Tyrius pitied the poor pilgrim, and acceded to his request. The palmer’s cloak was drawn over his face, so that he could distinguish but a portion of his features.
As the palmer slept, of a sudden a weasel, small and white, leapt from out of his mouth, and ran to a neighboring hill-side, where it entered a small hole; after a time the creature returned, and appeared to enter into the mouth of the sleeping man. At that moment the palmer awoke.
“Friend,” said he to Tyrius, “I have dreamed a strange dream. Methought a weasel, small, and white as snow, ran from out my mouth to a hole in yonder hill, and thence returning, re-entered my open mouth.”
“Father,” replied Tyrius, “it was no dream; so did it appear to me also, as I sat and watched you. What the weasel did in yonder hill I cannot conjecture.”
“Come, let us arise and look, peradventure we may find some good treasure.”
“Even as I thought,” continued the palmer, when they entered the hole in the hill-side, that led to a large cave; “see, a dragon dead, and filled with gold; the treasure he was thus guarding is our own; ay, too, a sword. What do we read on its bright blade? ‘_By me shall Guido overcome the enemies of Tyrius._’”