In the autumn gloom the boy traveled from his thatched house in the village to where the hills rose and fell in the King’s forest. The soft earth there made the digging easier on his hands. Dark tunnels also wound below the trees, excavated by animals burrowing for hovels. Other deep places, too, lay where the old trees fell across one another and the dense moss threw shadowy tents across the forest floor.

His name was Colin Windrove, and he loved to tunnel into things, the sides of hills, or the soft soil by rivers. His father had told him time and again to stop the senseless pursuit, because all he would have at the end of his digging, beside a hole in the ground, was dirty hands.

But Colin loved to dig these tunnels, or explore old ones left abandoned by others. He’d once heard a story of a boy who found treasure buried beneath a towering oak tree, but only because he’d been exploring the hollow spaces between its great, woven roots. If he’d left his hands clean that boy would never have found the treasure.

This belief in hidden jewels and golden coins compelled him to enter the King’s forest, despite the many warnings he’d been given about the sorcerer who kept the place for his own and punished those who trespassed in it. He only knew the farm on which he lived, and the few books his family kept on the mantle above the hearth, and so he wasn’t afraid, even though he knew several people were supposed to have vanished in the forest. Even the King’s son had disappeared one day, and hadn’t been seen for years. The village folk blamed the sorcerer, but Colin didn’t believe the story. Some day he would find his own treasure, but how could he find it if he stopped digging tunnels?

The trees before him were tall, dark and brooding, their heavy limbs stretched out across the sky like weary arms, their leaves allowing only a little sunlight to flash through in pale specks of light.

He walked between the trees until he found a tall, imposing oak standing before him like a silent sentry. For some reason he felt he shouldn’t pass it by—it rose high above the other trees and spread a gnarled collection of roots all around, roots so high and twisted that he thought he might be able to walk through their curving archways without stooping. Surely no other tree like it grew in the forest, nor any better under which to dig.

He took a deep breath as he kneeled beneath one of the crooked roots and began scooping out the soil with his hands. In the time he’d spent digging other holes his hands had grown strong, and he could scoop out endless piles of dirt without becoming the least tired. As the hole beneath the root deepened he felt the familiar thrill of exploring the unknown, and soon the tree’s roots covered his entire body. He removed an enormous amount of soil before his arms grew weary, and he wondered if, like always, he would have to turn away from the hole, having gotten nothing for his effort but dirty clothes.

Then, to his surprise, his hands seemed to press into an open space below the tree. His energy returned as he dug more furiously, until he realized he didn’t have to dig any longer. He’d found his way into a long tunnel that wound down under the oak.

Colin drew a deep breath and wondered if he should go farther—it might be dangerous to do so. His father would have told him so. But the thought of some waiting treasure convinced him to continue, and he crawled down and down the tunnel, until he emerged into a darkened chamber somewhere beneath the forest.

He rose in darkness, surprised that he could stand up fully in the space. Abruptly a candle flickered to life on a small table, and then another, and then there were three candles magically lighting the chamber.

He might have asked himself who had lit the candles, but only the thought of finding jewels and coins filled his mind. He turned and studied the small space, but saw nothing but dirt floor and dense shadows beyond the halo of candlelight.

“Who has trespassed on this chamber?”

Colin’s eyes widened as he turned in search of the bearer of the voice. He stopped when he saw the creature—tall, massive and crowned with a thick, ugly head like that of a sheep, large, black eyes flickering with the light of the candles, and bare, muscular arms like those of a man, walking toward the table.

He glanced around for the tunnel from which he’d come, wanting to hurry back to the forest, but the darkness of the chamber hid the tunnel’s mouth. He stood still, wondering what to do. Despite the dampness, sweat began falling from his face, and his heart beat strongly in his chest. His constricted throat refused to let him utter a sound.

The creature stopped when it reached the table and stood lit by the weakening candles. It seemed to study Colin with the large, dark eyes of a ram.

“Who has trespassed on this chamber?” it said again in a strange, inhuman voice. Could this be the sorcerer?

He stood trembling, uncertain of what the creature might do to him. But he had no place to hide, and so he replied.

“My name is Colin Wingrove,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know anyone lived here. Below the tree, I mean.”

“No one lives beneath the tree.”

“Don’t you live here?”

“I am kept in darkness only. This is my prison.”

“Your prison? But that’s not so. You could leave through the tunnel.”

“I cannot leave, but that the riddle is answered.”

Colin realized that he’d made a terrible mistake digging beneath the old oak. Could the creature be a monster? Or the sorcerer? And what did it mean by speaking of a riddle? Still afraid, but curious, too, he pulled his tunic around his shoulders, straightened as tall as possible, and pretended to be brave.

“What riddle?” he asked.

The creature rose up a little higher, and Colin fell back at the sight. It snorted loudly, if not a little sadly, then stared down at the candles on the table.

“This is an enchanted place,” it said. “Long ago the sorcerer cast a spell over it, and over me. And I shall remain imprisoned here until someone comes below the tree and answers the sorcerer’s riddle.”

The creature must be a victim of the sorcerer’s magic, Colin thought.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but I don’t think there’s much I can do for you. I could leave and tell my father where you are, and he could return to help you.”

“All those who enter this place must stay forever.”

“Forever?”

“The tunnel is closed,” the creature said, “and may only be opened by the one who answers the riddle.”

Colin fell to his knees and felt at the walls of the chamber that lay in shadow, searching for the tunnel. He tried digging then, but the place where he dug only filled again with soil. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t cry. He stood before the creature again.

“I don’t want to stay here forever,” he said. “Please, let me go.”

“I cannot free you,” the creature said. “You may only be freed by solving the riddle.”

“What if I can’t?”

“Then you will stay beneath the tree forever.”

Colin sighed. He slipped his hands into his pockets to calm himself. If he calmed himself he might be able to think clearly, but he shook all over.

“What is the riddle?” he asked finally.

The creature placed its large hands on the table, then turned its horned head from side to side.

“Once I have spoken the riddle,” it said, “you may ask me three questions, but you may not ask me for the answer to the riddle. After that, you must make one answer only. If you are wrong, you must stay beneath the forest with me.”

Colin swallowed hard and nodded. “All right.”

And then the awful creature spoke this riddle:

In this place below the tree

Is one who waits eternally,

And one who once knew royalty,

And one who wishes to be free.

Who are we?

Now the boy knew why the creature couldn’t identify itself—a clue to the riddle certainly lay in the monster’s identity. But what questions could he possibly ask to help him solve the riddle? Sorcerers were truly devious. But perhaps if he knew more about the chamber in which they stood—

“What is this place?” he asked.

The creature nodded.

“This place is a well of enchantment,” it said, “created by a spell of vengeance.”

The creature said nothing more.

The boy thought carefully a moment. If the chamber were created for vengeance, then the creature must be the object of that vengeance. They were the only two people standing in the shadows, so the creature itself must be part of the answer.

Knowing this, Colin asked, “Are you some sort of monster who did ill to the sorcerer?”

“I am only what you see,” it said. “If you see a monster, then that is what I am. And I did no ill, only walked among the trees.”

The boy sat down in the shadows, less afraid now and more thoughtful because of the intriguing puzzle laid before him. Had the sorcerer found the creature walking through the woods and imprisoned it beneath the oak as punishment? If so, that still did not tell him all he needed to know to answer the riddle. But what of the one who knew royalty? Certainly Colin had never known any royalty, let alone seen the King or Queen of the land. What could this mean?

He looked up into the candles’ light, noting the quiet look of pain on the creature’s face. Something terribly sorrowful glowed in the large, dark eyes.

“Have you ever met the King or Queen?”

The great, ugly head nodded.

“Yes. Three years ago I last saw the King and Queen, and the castle where they live.”

Colin thought a moment longer, and then rose to his feet and cautiously stepped to the table. Then, finding as much courage in his heart as possible, he reached out over the table and held one of the creature’s large hands. In the candlelight he saw the smooth skin, free of calluses and scars. The hand didn’t belong to some foraging monster, but to someone free of common labor.

Colin looked up into the creature’s ugly face, then nodded.

“I think I know the answer to the riddle,” he said, “but I’m afraid to speak it because I don’t want to spend eternity beneath this tree.”

The monster said nothing. Then, casting its gaze upon the boy with frightening eyes, it said, “I cannot help you more than to say that you must answer to escape.”

Colin sighed, and knew he had no other choice. If he kept silent he would stay; if he answered incorrectly, he would stay. Only by answering correctly would he escape, and so he must say something and pray for its truth.

He found the last of his courage and stared into the creature’s candlelit eyes.

“You are the one who waits eternally,” he said in a strong voice, “you are the one who once knew royalty, and you are the one that wishes to be free. You are the prince who disappeared long ago in the forest. And your father is the King.”

Slowly, the creature began to change. The horns of its head shrank and vanished, the eyes diminished in size, and the ugly face softened into the weary expression of a handsome young man. The man stood before Colin in rags, as his beautiful clothes had long ago been worn away by time. No longer a hideous monster, he’d become a man as gentle and time-worn as Colin’s own father.

The young man held his hands to his face a moment as if validating the transformation, then released his face, exposing a grateful smile.

“Thank you, Colin,” the prince said, and laughed. “The sorcerer found me walking in these woods one day and commanded me to kneel before him. I told him I was the King’s son, and that the forest belonged to my father. He grew so enraged he cast a spell upon me, changed my appearance and sent me below the tree to live forever. He never thought anyone would look beneath the oak.”

“I’m glad I did,” Colin said, delighted to have freed the prince. “I was searching for treasure and found you, instead.”

The candles, guttering low, filled the chamber with blacker shadows. They would soon be left in darkness.

The prince, regarding the candles, said, “But how shall we leave this place now?”

The boy smiled and raised his hands in the dim light.

“I think I know a way.”

So Colin dug a tunnel from below the tree through which he and the young prince escaped. That day he realized he’d retrieved something more precious than coins, something far greater in worth than jewels. He’d saved the prince’s life, which was more valuable a treasure than he could ever imagine.

The End