and let the flame that burns up the other be victor. I’ll be a red flame and do you be a white one.”
“Oh, no,” the seer interrupted. “You be the white flame and I’ll be the red one.”
The king agreed to this. So they went back to the road that led to the bridge, turned themselves into flames, and began burning each other mercilessly. But neither was able to burn up the other.
Suddenly a beggar came down the road, an old man with a long gray beard and a bald head, with a scrip at his side and a heavy staff in his hand.
“Father,” the white flame said, “get some water and pour it on the red flame and I’ll give you a penny.”
But the red flame called out quickly: “Not so, father! Get some water and pour it on the white flame and I’ll give you a shilling!”
Now of course the shilling appealed to the beggar more than the penny. So he got some water, poured it on the white flame and that was the end of the king.
The red flame turned into a man who seized the flaming horse by the bridle, mounted him and, after he had rewarded the beggar, called his servant and rode off.
Meanwhile at the royal palace there was deep sorrow for the murdered kings. The halls were draped
