 The weird circle. In this cave, by the restless sea, we are met to call from out the past stories, strange and weird. Bellkeeper, hold the bell so all may know we are gathered again in the weird circle. Out of the past, phantoms of a world gone by speak again the immortal tale, the shadow. It is in the hot lands that the sun burns. All sensible folk stay with indoors. Windows and shutters are closed the whole day and it looks as though the houses in the city sleep. But in the evening the town comes to life. It is lively up and down the streets and to visitors from Northlands like Kurt Van Anders and Peter Vroom. Watching from their balconies, the Orient is a wonderful spectacle. Kurt, come in off the balcony. Alright Peter. Sit down. But the fun is just starting outside. Sit down my boy, I want to talk to you. Well if you're going to take that, tell me. Alright. Tell me, who am I? Who are you? Oh, it's to be a catechism, is it? Very well, you are the honorable Peter Vroom, tutor extraordinaire to Baron Kurt Van Anders. And who is the Baron Kurt Van Anders? Why I am. Then you must not take amiss what I say to you now, for I speak not as friend to friend, but as teacher to pupil. Oh, so that's why my father sent you after me. Baron Van Anders, you were promised a year of travel alone for the purpose of completing your education, broadening your viewpoint and acquiring the degree of sophistication requisite in our Danish society. I won't go home, I've only had six months. Which you have spent idling in this unwholesome city. Baron, your father is not pleased with us. Consequently I bring orders that you should return home at once. Are you finished, my dear? I am finished. Well, another speak as friend. Peter, I can't come home. Why, I know if not. Because of that voice. What voice? Don't you hear it? Listen. A woman sings. She sings every night at this hour on the house across the street. Oh, she has a lovely voice. An exquisite voice. Good. That makes sense. Well, not to you, Peter, because you are old, but I am young. And I am caught on the threads of that lovely voice like a fish in a net. And I will not leave until I've seen it. Then look. Step to the balcony and look into her window. I've tried. I can never see it. Oh, Peter, my friend, she has a lovely voice. A magic. It's like our northern stars that fill the heart with unquenchable yearning. I would give anything to see her. I can't stop now. Just as well. Now, come to bed, my boy, and forget this romantic nonsense. What are you packing to do in the morning? You must leave for Denmark before night falls. Well, if those are my grim old father's orders, I suppose I'll have to. But it's hard to leave this mystery behind. Or if I could only see you just once. Why not let your shadow see? Don't play the fool with me, Peter. I assure you I'm not. Have you forgotten the old Danish belief? Is by day, is what you dream by night? Well, that's right. I had forgotten. Yeah, stand here. That's it. See, the lamp hurls your shadow across the street into that room. Turn your head a little. Your shadow must look around the room. It will see her. And tonight, you will see her face in your dreams. Peter! Peter, I... Oh. Kurt, in the name of heaven, Kurt. What is it? Oh, you have eyes, man. Look! My shadow is gone. Impossible. Well, then where is it? Tell me. Point it out to me. Peter, turn up that lamp. Then now. Now where is my shadow? Step aside, Peter. Let there be no mistake about this. All right, my boy. You'll see. It's all imagination. Now then. Look! Well? I... I don't know what to say. Peter Vroom. Tudor to the Baron von Anders. Master of Arts, Doctor of Philosophy. Out of the depths of your scholarship, explain. I... I cannot. Well, then, so much for science and philosophy. Then I'll tell you where my shadow is. It's across the street in a white house with emerald shutters, tailed by a harpy who sings with all the guile of a spider. And as to her web, I go now. What I have, I keep. And I want my shadow back. I want my shadow back. Open up in there. Open up! You thieves! Harpy spiders! Open up, you shadow stealers! Open this door! Open this door, thieves. It is Baron von Anders calling you to account. This is no sheep to be slaughtered in silence and safety. Open up! Yeah? You... You're the woman who sings. You're the woman who stole my shadow. Yes, my friend, I am. Come, let us go inside. This way, Baron. Who are you? What kind of a house is this? I am called the Grey Spinner. And this house is the house of tapestry. Sit down, Baron. I don't think I understand. Not many do, Baron von Anders. What do you do here? We spin, my friend. I and my two sisters. We spin lives from grey threads. Small grey threads. The web your shadow was made of. My shadow? You have come to claim it. I know. You're too late. We have already woven your shadow. You have what? It is an art we practice. To take the thin grey shadows and spin them into living, breathing beings. A fine, exquisite art, my dear Baron. But we are expert artists. There are thousands of our shadow people walking your earth. Born of no woman. Owing their lives to us. I don't believe you. But it is true, my friend. Half the people in this world, half the people you see, half your friends are mere living shadows. Fun grey shadows woven by us. The three grey spinners. I want my shadow back. You have no right. You cannot have your shadow, my friend. He is a free man. You cannot control him. But beware, Baron, beware. For your end and your shadow's end will be the same. The same end at the same time, Baron. In the far northern countries, the little sun that is seen gives forth a pale watery light that shows hardly any shadows at all. One does not notice shadows in the Northland. One would not notice a man who had no shadow. But a man without a shadow doesn't realize this. He believes all eyes spy out his secret. And like a harried beast lurks in darkness, nursing to see. Court! Court! Hang it at pitch dark in here. Val swear this is the place I know it was him I followed. I know he came into this apartment. Court! All right, Peter. Of course I might as well give in. You found me. Court, then it was you. Yes, it was me. One moment, I've got my tinderbox here. I'll light a candle. I don't usually keep a light going. Naturally you understand why. Here we are. Court, you fool, you fool! All right, Peter, you found me. Now don't lecture me. But to come home with me and then give me the flip right here in Königsberg to hide for a year, a whole year, and in a hovel like this, my boy, you're insane. You know I'm not, Peter. A man without a shadow doesn't expose himself. But what have you been doing for a year? Looking for a gray lady, a gray spinner, a lady who perhaps might spin me a new shadow. No shadow, it's warped your mind. Oh, my boy, how could you do this to me and to your father? How is it with you, Peter? How can you ask? You must know I'd be dismissed by your father for losing you. My reputation blasted, my career, my life ended. I've spent a year searching for you. Searching and hoping. That's really very funny, Peter. I've been looking for a shadow without a man, and you for a man without a shadow. But now that I've found you, all will be well again. You will come with me to your father. I shall be reinstated. We'll make up a story about tropical fever, eh? The loss of mine. All will be well again. No, Peter. You mean you want a different excuse for vanishing? I mean I'm not going back. Not going back? How can I? How can a man without a shadow ever dare appear anywhere? You know how they stoned me in the streets of that city? You remember how we were attacked at every stop on the way home? Wherever I showed myself. But this is home. You're safe here. A man without a shadow is safe nowhere. I will not leave this place except at night. And I will not go to my father's house. I'm going to tell your father where you are. I'm going to tell him why you're here. But you're insane. I'm going to tell him nothing. You're a fool. You're a fine, blundering fool. You'll sell me for a fine fat job, eh? No, good. No, I never... Listen to me, fool. Listen. Listen why you can still hear. I've nothing left. Money, friends, clothes, even shadow. But cool hands and courage I have. And with them I fight for what I want. It's a door. Someone there. Peter's body. I've got to hide it but where I... Pardon. I took the liberty. You are Baron Court Van Anders. I... Pardon again. I did not see you at company. But you are Baron Van Anders. Yes, that man is dead. Yes? Yes. You have just strangled him, Baron. I see the white finger marks on the throat turning red. He died quite recently, eh? Yes. That is very funny. While I entered, his life fled. Who are you? Ah, this is as I expected. You do not recognize me, Baron. No. You're not of the police. Oh, no. It is not my business that you were a murderer. Then who are you? Oh, come now. Yes, I've been an old friend of yours for 20 years. We grew up together, my dear Baron, and yet you do not recognize me. In heaven's name, who are you? I am your shadow. They tell a tale in the far northern countries where this story takes place that once a man standing before a mirror slipped and fell through the glass and so met himself in the flesh face to face. Whereupon he screamed in terror because the face he saw was so ugly. No. It is not pleasant anywhere to meet and speak with a part of yourself, especially if that part be your shadow. You were surprised, my dear Baron, eh? What did you expect? Sooner or later, your shadow had to return, eh? It's impossible. I don't believe it. You are flesh and blood, alive. The grey women spin well under looms. Yes, I'm alive, flesh and blood. Well-woven, so to speak. And you are no longer a shadow. My shadow. I am nobody's shadow. I am a prince. A prince of Samarkand. A prince? Not by heredity, you understand, a prince by conquest, dear Baron. I have had many adventures during this year. I will tell them to you someday. What brings you north to Denmark? A strange mission, my friend, and I shall ask your advice, but later. Now, what about yourself? Isn't it wise to murder, you know? They hang murderers. What are you to do? I must escape somehow. Escape? Yes, very good. You have monies, too? Well, pardon me, I can't help asking these chambers, so very poor and ugly. No, I have no money. I have nothing left since I lost you. I will help you escape if you will render me a very small service in return. What service? I have come north on an important mission that takes me to the court of Maria, Countess of Heligot. You know the name, the Lancer in Finland? No. Strange, Baron. Your own family is powerful in Denmark. Your acquaintance is large in the northern... I've never heard of her. She's some imposter, some deceiver. There is no Countess Maria of Heligot. Then we shall see. But for now, my predicament is this. You see, I have no shadow. No shadow? But how could I? The Grey Ladies weave well, even they cannot spin a shadow or a shadow. True. And so, I will help you escape if you... Oh, no, this is embarrassing. How can I ask it? Ask what you will. I am a desperate man by this killing. Then will you come away with me to Finland? I will protect you, feed you, clothe you, and ask only a small thing in return. What thing? That you be my shadow. Oh, Prince of Samarkand, this is the final irony of the Grey Spinner. So the shadow shall be the master, the master the shadow. But you must remember, my friend, it is you who are the shadow. Let me trouble you to remember that, lest I remember to mention a certain killing to the guards of Denmark. No, you would not. But you believe I would, eh? You are right. One does not become Prince of Samarkand who squeamishness. It would be wise to keep that in mind. I will remember. Only answer me one question in return. Why did you save me from death when I am the one person who can betray your secret? Why? It was mercy, my shadow. No, it was something else. It was mercy. Enter, Prince, and welcome to Heligo. My companion will wait outside. Very well. I am pleased to greet you after these many months of letters, Prince. My dear Countess Maria, I have been looking forward to this meeting ever since we reached our delightful agreement. I can only say the beauty of your letters has been but a pale reflection of your own charm. Not so fast, my friend. You must answer one question for me. Yes? Why do you not cast a shadow? We of the far south are sorcerers. I have had my shadow trimmed up into a man. You saw him just outside the door. The most unusual, Prince of Magic. And it is really a delightful joke. For my shadow is so proud of passing himself off as a man that if he is to be kept in a proper huber, he must be treated quite like a man. I like that. I have met many princes, but you were the first ever to be original about your shadow. Yes, I think I shall like you more and more, Prince of Samarkand. Prince of magicians. Then I shall hope more, your grace. Do not waste too many moments in hoping. It will be a good marriage, my friend. A splendid matching of north and south. Ah dear lady. No. Now go first to your suite. You are worried with much traveling. There will be a banquet tonight. Go. You must rest. You and your man, Shadow. In two hours, my friend. In two hours. Well, is your business finished? Can we leave now? Listen, my good friend. You will listen closely, eh? I have now become as happy and mighty as anyone can be. I will therefore do something particular for you. What? You can give me back my shadow? You shall always live with me in the palace. Drive with me in the royal carriage. Have ten thousand gold pieces a year. Then you must submit to be called Shadow by all and everyone. No. You must not say you have ever been a man. And once a year when I sit on the balcony in the sunshine, you must lie at my feet as a shadow should do. Never. You ask too high a price for your blood money. I must tell you, I'm going to marry the Countess. No. This is not right. I will not have it. And I will not do it. You will deceive the whole country and the Countess too. All right, I will tell everything. That I am a man and that you are my shadow. Go with belief. Be reasonable or I will call the guard. Now get out of the way. I'm going to the Countess. You are a fool. A man with a price on your head. You cannot... Get out of the way. Prince. Grace. You're trembling. Did something happen? What was that noise? Countess, I... I have lived to see the most cruel thing that anyone could see. What a pity. His poor shadow brain could not bear the strain. Is it? What are you saying? My shadow has turned mad. He thinks he is a man and I am his shadow. Poor shadow. I'm afraid he will never recover. I shall have to keep him confined forever. Guard, take him to his room and chain him. No. That was not just of you, Prince of Magicians, to take a common shadow and work your enchantments on him. Small wonder he's gone mad. Perhaps. You must never play these tricks again. Now I think it would be a real act of charity to deliver your shadow of the little illusory life he has. Oh, no. Yes. When I think the matter over, I'm convinced it will be necessary to do away with him. Quiet. No, no. We must not. I forbid it. No man forbids me anything in my own court, my friend. We will talk of it by and by at the banquet. But rest assured, your shadow must die. Your shadow, Prince must die. As you all see, at my right sits the noble Prince of Samarkand, noble cousin from the far south who has journeyed many thousands of leagues to our court. Your grace. One moment, my dear. I must speak to you. I've not had the chance all evening. I must speak about my shadow. He will be taken care of, I've promised. No, no. To some of you, the purpose of this visit is a mystery. To a few others, it is perhaps known. Now I shall make the truth known to all. Cousin, cousin, listen to me. I beg you. What is it? You must not harm my shadow. You will not be harmed, my dear. I have promised his little life will be taken. Nothing more. No torture. No pain. But you cannot take his life. Cannot in my own castle, Prince? No. It is a lesson you must learn for the future. At this moment, they will be bringing the headsman to his cell. I beg you, no. I beg you. Great heaven. I can feel the fingers of death chilling my heart even now. You are over-sensitive. We must harden you a little with our northern frost. It creeps to my throat. Can you do nothing to save me? Stop the death. I beg you, Prince. I did not tell him. I did not dare lay my life in his hands. The gray spinner, she told me. When he dies, so must I die. How else can it be between master and shadow? My life linked to him, and now... He is gone. In the twinkling of an eye, gone. Prince of Samarkand, Prince of Magicians. Nothing remains but an empty sack of clothes. It's over. The game is played and finished. Away, shadows, all of you. The play is ended. The man is dead in his shadow, too. This shadow castle will vanish, and we must part and go our way. But we have our little jest now, and we shall chuckle over it for a time. The three gray spinners will have a jest to file away the weary immortal years until the time comes to joke and laugh once more. It is hot in the Southlands and cold in the North. The East winds blow chill, and the West winds sweet and soft. But North and South, East and West, the gray spinners weave the tapestry of some men's lives. Perhaps your own. From the time-worn pages of the past, we have brought you the immortal tale, The Shadow. Bellkeeper, call the bells.