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Beneath the kitchen floor was a walled closet for food, which was covered and hidden from view. There the son his mother,supplying her with everything needful and continually watching and fearing.
Time passed, and he was beginning to feel safe when again the governor sent forth heralds bearing an unreasonable order, seemingly as a boast of his power.
Present me with a rope of ashes!
The entire province trembled with dread. The order must be obeyed yet who in all shining could make a rope of ashes?
I will think. I will think
One night, in great distress, the son whispered the news to his hidden mother.
Make rope twisted straw.Then stretch it upon a row of flat stones and burn it there on the windless night.
On the second day she told him what to do.
He called the people together and did as she said and when the blaze and died, behold upon the stones with every twist and fiber showing perfectly. Lay a rope of whithead ashes.
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