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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Jester's Sword, by Annie Fellows Johnston.
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<pre>
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Jester's Sword, by Annie Fellows Johnston
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Jester's Sword
How Aldebaran, the King's Son Wore the Sheathed Sword of Conquest
Author: Annie Fellows Johnston
Release Date: April 6, 2012 [EBook #39385]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JESTER'S SWORD ***
Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
</pre>
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<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="359" height="600" alt="cover of The Jester's Sword by Annie Fellows Johnston" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<h1><i>The<br />
JESTER'S SWORD</i></h1>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class='center'> <table class="books" summary="books">
<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<div class='adtitle'><br /><br />The Johnston Jewel Series<br /><br /><br /></div>
<div class='center'><span class="smcap">By Annie Fellows Johnston</span><br /><br /><br /></div>
<div class='blockquot'>Each, small 16mo, cloth,
decorated cover and frontispiece,
with decorative text
borders <i>75c.</i></div>
<div class='center'><br />————————<br /><span class="smcap">List of Titles</span><br /><br /></div>
<div class='hang1'>THE RESCUE OF THE PRINCESS
WINSOME: A Fairy Play for Old
and Young.<br /><br /></div>
<div class='hang1'>KEEPING TRYST: A Tale of King
Arthur's Time.<br /><br /></div>
<div class='hang1'>*IN THE DESERT OF WAITING:
The Legend of Camelback Mountain.<br /><br /></div>
<div class='hang1'>*THE THREE WEAVERS: A Fairy
Tale for Fathers and Mothers as
Well as for Their Daughters.<br /><br /></div>
<div class='hang1'>THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING
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<hr class="chap" />
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 352px;">
<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="352" height="600" alt="On the street" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class='center'> <table class="title" summary="title">
<tr><td align='left'><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
<h1><br /> <br /> <br /> <i>THE JESTER'S<br />
SWORD</i></h1>
<div class='center'>
—————————————<br />
<div class='adtitle2'>How Aldebaran, the King's Son,
Wore the Sheathed Sword of
Conquest</div>
—————————————<br />
BY<br />
<span class='author'>ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON</span><br />
<i><span class='small'>Author of "The Little Colonel Series," "Big Brother,"</span><br />
<span class='small'>"Joel: A Boy of Galilee," "In the Desert of Waiting," etc.</span></i><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 144px;">
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</div>
<div class='center'><br /><br /><br /><br />
BOSTON<br />
<i><span class='big'>THE PAGE COMPANY</span></i><br />
Publishers<br />
</div>
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<hr class="chap" />
<div class='copyright'>
<i>Copyright, 1908</i><br />
<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page & Company</span><br />
(INCORPORATED)<br />
<br />
<i>Copyright, 1909</i><br />
<span class="smcap">By L. C. Page & Company</span><br />
(INCORPORATED)<br />
<br />
<i>All rights reserved</i><br />
<br />
First Impression, June, 1909<br />
Second Impression, August, 1909<br />
Third Impression, October, 1910<br />
Fourth Impression, November, 1911<br />
Fifth Impression, November, 1912<br />
Sixth Impression, January, 1916<br />
Seventh Impression, August, 1917<br />
Eighth Impression, April, 1920<br />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class='center'>
<span class='small'>TO</span><br />
John<br />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class='blockquot'>"<i>To renounce when that shall be
necessary and not be embittered.</i>"<br />
<div class='sig'>
<span class="smcap">R. L. Stevenson.</span><br />
</div></div><hr class="chap" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
<h2><i>The Jester's Sword</i></h2>
<div class='cap'>BECAUSE he was born
in Mars' month, which
is ruled by that red war-god,
they gave him the name of
a red star—Aldebaran; the
red star that is the eye of
Taurus. And because he
was born in Mars' month,
the bloodstone became his
signet, sure token that undaunted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
courage would be
the jewel of his soul.</div>
<p>Now all his brothers were
as stalwart and as straight
of limb as he, and each one's
horoscope held signs foretelling
valorous deeds. But
Aldebaran's so far out-blazed
them all, with comet's trail
and planets in most favourable
conjunction, that from
his first year it was known
the Sword of Conquest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>
should be his. This sword
had passed from sire to son
all down a line of kings.
Not to the oldest one always,
as did the throne, though
now and then the lot fell so,
but to the one to whom the
signs all pointed as being
worthiest to wield it.</p>
<p>So from the cradle it was
destined for Aldebaran, and
from the cradle it was his
greatest teacher. His old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>
nurse fed him with such tales
of it, that even in his play
the thought of such an heritage
urged him to greater
ventures than his mates
dared take. Many a night
he knelt beside his casement,
gazing through the darkness
at the red eye of Taurus,
whispering to himself the
words the old astrologers
had written, "<i>As Aldebaran
the star shines in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>
heavens, Aldebaran the
man shall shine among
his fellows.</i>"</p>
<p>Day after day the great
ambition grew within him,
bone of his bone and strength
of his sinew, until it was as
much a part of him as the
strong heart beating in his
breast. But only to one did
he give voice to it, to the
maiden Vesta, who had always
shared his play. Now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
it chanced that she, too, bore
the name of a star, and when
he told her what the astrologers
had written, she repeated
the words of her own
destiny:</p>
<p>"<i>As Vesta the star keeps
watch in the heavens above
the hearths of mortals, so
Vesta the maiden shall keep
eternal vigil beside the heart
of him who of all men is the
bravest.</i>"</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p>
<p>When Aldebaran heard
that he swore by the bloodstone
on his finger that when
the time was ripe for him to
wield the sword he would
show the world a far greater
courage than it had ever
known before. And Vesta
smiling, promised by that
same token to keep vigil by
one fire only, the fire that
she had kindled in his heart.</p>
<p>One by one his elder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
brothers grew up and went
out into the world to win
their fortunes, and like a
restless steed that frets
against the rein, impatient
to be off, he chafed against
delay and longed to follow.
For now the ambition that
had grown with his growth
had come to be more than
bone of his bone and
strength of his sinew. It
was an all-consuming desire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
which coursed through him
even as his heart's blood;
for with the years had come
an added reason for the
keeping of his youthful vow.
Only in that way could
Vesta's destiny be linked
with his.</p>
<p>When the great day came
at last for the Sword to be
put into his hands, with a
blare of trumpets the castle
gates flew open, and a long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
procession of nobles filed
through. To the sound of
cheers and ringing of bells,
Aldebaran fared forth on
his quest. The old king,
his father, stepped down in
the morning sun, and with
bared head Aldebaran knelt
to receive his blessing.
With his hand on the Sword
he swore that he would not
come home again, until he
had made a braver conquest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>
than had ever been made
with it before, and by the
bloodstone on his finger the
old king knew that Aldebaran
would fail not in the
keeping of that oath.</p>
<p>With the godspeed of the
villagers ringing in his ears,
he rode away. Only once
he paused to look back,
when a white hand fluttered
at a casement, and Vesta's
sorrowful face shone down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>
on him like a star. Then
she, too, saw the bloodstone
on his finger as he waved
her a farewell, and she, too,
knew by that token he
would fail not in the keeping
of his oath.</p>
<p>'Twas passing wonderful
how soon Aldebaran began
to taste the sweets of great
achievement. His name was
on the tongue of every troubadour,
his deeds in every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
minstrel's song. And
though he travelled far to
alien lands, scarce known by
hearsay even to the folk at
home, his fame was carried
back, far over seas again,
and in his father's court his
name was spoken daily in
proud tones, as they recounted
all his honours.</p>
<p>Young, strong, with the
impetuous blood begotten of
success tingling through all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>
his veins, he had no thought
that dire mishap could seize
on <i>him;</i> that pain or malady
or mortal weakness could
pierce <i>his</i> armour, which
youth and health had girt
about him. From place to
place he went, wherever there
was need of some brave
champion to espouse a weak
ones cause. It mattered not
who was arrayed against him,
whether a tyrant king, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
dragon breathing fire, or
some hideous scaly monster
that preyed upon the villages.
His Sword of Conquest was
unsheathed for each; and as
his courage grew with every
added victory, he thirsted for
some greater foe to vanquish,
remembering his
youthful vow.</p>
<p>And as he journeyed on he
pictured often to himself the
day of his returning, the day<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>
on which his vow should
find fulfilment. How wide
the gates would be thrown
open for his welcome! How
loud would swell the cheers
of those who thronged to do
him honour! His dreams
were always of that triumphal
entrance, and of Vesta's
approving smile. Never once
the shadow of a thought
stole through his mind that
it might be far otherwise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>
Was not he born for conquest?
Did not the very
stars foretell success?</p>
<p>One night, belated in a
mountain pass, he sought
the shelter of a shelving rock,
and with his mantle wrapped
about him lay down to sleep.
Upon the morrow he would
sally forth and beard the
Province Terror in his stronghold;
would challenge him
to combat, and after long and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
glorious battle would rid the
country of its dreaded foe.
Already tasting victory, he
fell asleep, a smile upon his
lips.</p>
<p>But in the night a storm
swept down the mountain
pass with sudden fury, uprooting
trees a century old,
and rending mighty rocks
with sword thrusts of its
lightning. And when it
passed Aldebaran lay prone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>
upon the earth borne down by
rocks and fallen trees. Lay
as if dead until two passing
goat-herds found him and
bore him down in pity to
their hut.</p>
<p>Long weeks went by before
the fever craze and pains
began to leave him, and when
at last he crawled out in the
sun, he found himself a poor
misshapen thing, all maimed
and marred, with twisted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
back and face all drawn awry
and foot that dragged. One
hand hung nerveless by his
side. Never more would it
be strong enough to use the
Sword. He could not even
draw it from its scabbard.</p>
<p>As in a daze he looked
upon himself, thinking some
hideous nightmare had him
in its hold. "That is not
<i>I!</i>" he cried, in horror at the
thought. Then as the truth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>
began to pierce his soul, he
sat with starting eyes and lips
that gibbered in cold fear, the
while they still persisted in
their fierce denial. "This is
not <i>I!</i>"</p>
<p>Again he said it and again
as if his frenzied words could
work a miracle and make him
as he was before. Then when
the sickening sense of his calamity
swept over him like a
flood in all its fulness, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
cast himself upon the earth
and prayed to die. Despair
had seized him. But Death
comes not at such a call;
kind Death, who waits that
one may have a chance to
rise again and grapple with
the foe that downed him, and
conquering, wipe the stigma
coward from his soul.</p>
<p>So with Aldebaran. At
first it seemed that he could
not endure to face the round<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>
of useless days now stretching
out before him. An eagle,
broken winged and drooping
in a cage, he sat within the
goat-herd's hut and gloomed
upon his lot, and cursed the
vital force within that would
not let him die.</p>
<p>To fall asleep with all the
world within one's grasp and
waken empty-handed—that
is small bane to one who may
spring up again, and by sheer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>
might wrest all his treasures
back from Fortune. But to
wake helpless as well as
empty-handed, the strength
for ever gone from arms that
were invincible; to crawl, a
poor crushed worm, the mark
for all men's pity, where one
had thought to win the meed
of all men's praise, ah, then
to live is agony! Each breath
becomes a venomed adder's
sting.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p>
<p>Most of all Aldebaran
thought of Vesta. The stroke
that marred his comeliness
and took his strength had
robbed him of all power to
win his happiness. It was
written "by the hearth of him
who is the bravest she shall
keep eternal vigil." As yet
he had not risen above the
level of his forbears' bravery,
only up to it. Now 'twas impossible
to show the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
a greater courage, shorn as he
was of strength. And even
had her horoscope willed
otherwise, and she should
come to him all filled with
maiden pity to share his
ruined hearth, he could not
say her yea. His man's pride
rose up in him, rebellious at
the thought of pity from one
in whose sight he fain would
be all that is strong and
comely. Looking down upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
his twisted limbs, the pain
that racked him was greater
torture than mere flesh can
feel. Although 'twas casting
heaven from him, he drew his
mantle closer, hiding his disfigured
form, and prayed with
groans and writhings that
she might never look on him
again. So days went by.</p>
<p>There came a time when,
even through his all-absorbing
thought of self, there pierced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
the consciousness that he no
longer could impose upon the
goat-herds' bounty. Food
was scarce within the hut,
and even though he groaned
to die, the dawns brought
hunger. So at the close of
day he dragged him down the
mountainside, thinking that
under cover of the dusk he
would steal into the village
and seek a chance to earn
his bread.</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p>
<p>But as he neared the little
town and the sound of evening
bells broke on his ear,
and lighted windows marked
the homes where welcome
waited other men, he winced
as from a blow. This was
the village he had thought
to enter in the midst of loud
acclaims, its brave deliverer
from the Province Terror.
Then every window in the
hamlet would have blazed for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
him. Then every door would
have been set wide to welcome
Aldebaran, the royal
son of kings, fittest to bear
the Sword of Conquest. And
now Aldebaran was but the
crippled makeshift of a man,
who could not even draw that
Sword from out its scabbard;
at whose wry features all
must turn away in loathing,
and some perchance might
even set the dogs to snarling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>
at his heels, in haste to have
him gone.</p>
<p>"In all the world," he cried
in bitterness, "there breathes
no other man whom Faith
hath used so cruelly! Emptied
of hope, robbed of my all, life
doth become a prison-house
that dooms me to its lowest
dungeon! Why struggle any
longer 'gainst my lot? Why
not lie here and starve, and
thus force Death to turn the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>
key, and break the manacles
which bind me to my misery?"</p>
<p>While he thus mused, footsteps
came up the mountainside,
a lusty voice was raised
in song, and before he could
draw back into cover, a head
in a fantastic cap appeared
above the bushes. It was
the village Jester capering
along the path as if the world
were thistledown and every
day a holiday. But when he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
saw Aldebaran he stopped
agape and crossed himself.
Then he pushed nearer.</p>
<p>Now those who saw the
Jester only on a market day
or at the country fair plying
his trade of merriment for all
'twas worth knew not a sage
was hid behind that motley
or that his sympathies were
tender as a saint's. Yet so it
was. The motto written deep
across his heart was this:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
"<i>To ease the burden of the
world!</i>" It was beyond belief
how wise he'd grown in
wheedling men to think no
load lay on their shoulders.
Now he stood and gazed
upon the prostrate man who
turned away his face and
would not answer his low-spoken
words: "What ails
thee, brother?"</p>
<p>It boots not in this tale
what wiles he used to gain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>
Aldebaran's ear and tongue.
Another man most surely
must have failed, because he
shrank from pity as from salt
rubbed in a wound, and felt
that none could hear his woeful
history and not bestow
that pity. But if the Jester felt
its throbs he gave no sign.
Seated beside him on the
grass he talked in the light
tone that served his trade, as
if Aldebaran's woes were but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
a flight of swallows 'cross
a summer sky, and would as
soon be gone. And when between
his quirks he'd drawn
the piteous tale entirely from
him, he doubled up with
laughter and smote his sides.</p>
<p>"And I'm the fool and
thou'rt the sage!" he gasped
between his peals of mirth.
"Gadzooks! Methinks it is
the other way around. Why,
look ye, man! Here thou<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
dost go a-junketing through
all the earth to find a chance
to show unequalled courage,
and when kind Fate doth
shove it underneath thy very
nose, thou turn'st away,
lamenting. I've heard of
those who know not beans although
the bag be opened,
and now I laugh to see one
of that very kind before
me."</p>
<p>Then dropping his unseemly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
mirth and all his
wanton raillery, he stood up
with his face a-shine, and
spake as if he were the
heaven-sent messenger of
hope.</p>
<p>"Rise up!" he cried.
"<i>Knowest thou not it takes
a thousandfold more courage
to sheathe the sword when
one is all on fire for action
than to go forth against the
greatest foe?</i> Here is thy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>
chance to show the world the
kingliest spirit it has ever
known! Here is a phalanx
thou mayst meet all single-handed—a
daily struggle
with a host of hurts that cut
thee to the quick. This
sheathèd sword upon thy side
will stab thee hourly with
deeper thrusts than any adversary
can give. 'Twill be a
daily 'minder of thy thwarted
hopes. For foiled ambition<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>
is the hydra-headed monster
of the Lerna marsh. Two
heads will rise for every one
thou severest. 'Twill be a
fight till death. Art brave
enough to lift the gauntlet
that Despair flings down and
wage this warfare to thy very
grave?'"</p>
<p>Such call to arms seemed
mockery as Aldebaran looked
down upon his twisted limbs,
but as the bloodstone on his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
finger met his sight his kingly
soul leapt up. "I'll keep the
oath!" he cried, and struggling
to his feet laid hand
upon the jewelled hilt that
decked his side.</p>
<p>"By sheathèd sword, since
blade is now denied me," he
swore. "I'll win the future
that my stars foretold!"</p>
<p>In that exalted moment all
things seemed possible, and
though his body limped as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>
haltingly he followed on behind
his new-found friend, his
spirit walked erect, and faced
his future for the time, undaunted.</p>
<p>His merry-Andrew of a
host made festival when they
at last came to his dwelling;
lit a great fire upon the
hearth, brewed him a drink
that warmed him to the
core, brought wheaten loaves
and set a bit of savoury<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
meat to turning on the
spit.</p>
<p>"Ho, ho!" he laughed.
"They say it is an ill wind
that blows good to none.
Now thou dost prove the
proverb. The tempest that
didst blow thee from thy
course mayhap may send me
on my way rejoicing. I long
have wished to leave this
land and seek the distant
province where my kindred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
dwell, but there was never
one to take my place. And
when I spake of going, my
townsmen said me nay.
'Twas quite as bad, they
vowed, as if the priest should
suddenly desert his parish,
with none to shepherd his
abandoned flock. 'Who'll
cheer us in our doldrums?'
they demanded. 'Who'll
help us bear our troubles by
making us forget them?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
Thou canst not leave us,
Piper, until some other merry
soul comes by to set our feet
a-dancing.' Now thou art
come."</p>
<p>"Yes, <i>I!</i> A merry soul indeed!"
Aldebaran cried in
bitterness.</p>
<p>"Well, maybe not quite
that," his host admitted. "But
thou couldst pass as one.
Thou couldst at least put on
my grotesque garb, couldst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>
learn the quips and quirks
by which I make men laugh.
Thou wouldst not be the
first man who has hid an
aching heart behind a smile.
The tune thou pipest may
not bring <i>thee</i> pleasure, but
if it sets the world to dancing
it is enough. And, too, it is
an honest way to earn thy
bread. Canst think of any
other?"</p>
<p>Aldebaran hid his face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
within his hands. "No, no!"
he groaned. "There is no
other way, and yet my soul
abhors the thought, that I, a
king's son, should descend to
this! The jester's motley and
the cap and bells. How can
<i>I</i> play such a part?"</p>
<p>"Because thou <i>art</i> a king's
son," said the Jester. "That
in itself is ample reason that
thou shouldst play more
royally than other men whatever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>
part Fate may assign
thee."</p>
<p>Aldebaran sat wrapped in
thought. "Well," was the
slow reply after long pause,
"an hundred years from now,
I suppose, 'twill make no
difference how circumstances
chafe me now. A poor philosophy,
but still there is a
grain of comfort in it. I'll
take thy offer, friend, and
give thee gratitude."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
<p>And so next day the two
went forth together. Aldebaran
showed a brave front
to the crowd, glad of the
painted mask that hid his
features, and no one guessed
the misery that lurked beneath
his laugh, and no one
knew what mighty tax it was
upon his courage to follow
in the Jester's lead and play
buffoon upon the open street.
It was a thing he loathed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
and yet, 'twas as the Jester
said, his training in the royal
court had made him sharp of
wit and quick to read men's
minds; and to the countrymen
who gathered there
agape, around him in the
square, his keen replies were
wonderful as wizard's magic.</p>
<p>And when he piped—it
was no shallow fluting that
merely set the rustic feet
a-jig, it was a strange and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
stirring strain that made the
simplest one among them
stand with his soul a-tiptoe,
as he listened, as if a kingly
train with banners went
a-marching by. So royally
he played his part, that even
on that first day he surpassed
his teacher. The Jester, jubilant
that this was so, thought
that his time to leave was
near at hand, but when that
night they reached his dwelling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
Aldebaran tore off the
painted mask and threw himself
upon the hearth.</p>
<p>"'Tis more than flesh can
well endure!" he cried. "All
day the thought of what I've
lost was like a constant
sword-thrust in my heart.
Instead of deference and respect
that once was mine
from high and low, 'twas
laugh and jibe and pointing
finger. And, too" (his voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>
grew shrill and querulous),
"I saw young lovers straying
in the lanes together.
How can I endure that sight
day after day when my arms
must remain for ever empty?
And little children prattled
by their father's side no matter
where I turned. I, who
shall never know a little son's
caress, felt like a starving
man who looks on bread and
may not eat. Far better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
that I crawl away from
haunts of men where I need
never be tormented by such
contrasts."</p>
<p>The Jester looked down
on Aldebaran's wan face.
It was as white and drawn
as if he had been tortured by
the rack and thumbscrew, so
he made no answer for the
moment. But when the fire
was kindled, and they had
supped the broth set out in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
steaming bowls upon the
table, he ventured on a word
of cheer.</p>
<p>"At any rate," he said,
"for one whole day thou hast
kept thy oath. No matter
what the anguish that it cost
thee, from sunrise to sunsetting
thou hast held Despair
at bay. It was the bravest
stand that thou hast ever
made. And now, if thou hast
lived through this one day,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>
why not another? 'Tis only
one hour at a time that
thou art called on to endure.
Come! By the bloodstone
that is thy birthright, pledge
me anew thou'lt keep thy
oath until the going down
of one more sun."</p>
<p>So Aldebaran pledged him
one more day, and after that
another and another, until a
fortnight slowly dragged itself
away. And then because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>
he met his hurt so bravely
and made no sign, the Jester
thought the struggle had
grown easier with time, and
spoke again of going to his
kindred.</p>
<p>"Nay, do not leave me yet,"
Aldebaran plead. "Wouldst
take my only crutch? It is
thy cheerful presence that
alone upholds me."</p>
<p>"Yet it would show still
greater courage if thou<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>
couldst face thy fate alone,"
the Jester answered. "Despair
cannot be vanquished
till thou hast taught thyself
to really feel the gladness
thou dost feign. I've heard
that if one will count his
blessings as the faithful tell
their rosary beads he will
forget his losses in pondering
on his many benefits. Perchance
if thou wouldst try
that plan it might avail."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p>
<p>So Aldebaran went out determined
to be glad in heart
as well as speech, if so be it
he could find enough of cheer.
"I will be glad," he said, "because
the morning sun shines
warm across my face." He
slipped a golden beam upon
his memory string.</p>
<p>"I will be glad because
that there are diamond sparkles
on the grass and larks
are singing in the sky." A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
dew-drop and a bird's trill
for his rosary.</p>
<p>"I will be glad for bread,
for water from the spring, for
eyesight and the power to
smell the budding lilacs by
the door; for friendly greetings
from the villages."</p>
<p>A goodly rosary, symbol
of all the things for which
he should be glad, was in
his hand at close of day. He
swung it gaily by the hearth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
that night, recounting all his
blessings till the Jester
thought, "At last he's found
the cure."</p>
<p>But suddenly Aldebaran
flung the rosary from him
and hid his face within his
hands. "'Twill drive me
mad!" he cried. "To go on
stringing baubles that do but
set my mind the firmer on
the priceless jewel I have
lost. May heaven forgive<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
me! I am not really glad.
'Tis all a hollow mockery
and pretence!"</p>
<p>Then was the Jester at his
wit's end for a reply. It was
a welcome sound when presently
a knocking at the door
broke on the painful silence.
The visitor who entered was
an aged friar beseeching alms
at every door, as was the custom
of his brotherhood, with
which to help the sick and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
poor. And while the Jester
searched within a chest for
some old garments he was
pleased to give, he bade the
friar draw up to the hearth
and tarry for their evening
meal, which then was well-nigh
ready. The friar, glad
to accept the hospitality,
spread out his lean hands
to the blaze, and later, when
the three sat down together,
warmed into such a cheerfulness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
of speech that Aldebaran
was amazed.</p>
<p>"Surely thy lot is hard,
good brother," he said, looking
curiously into the
wrinkled face. "Humbling
thy pride to beg at every
door, forswearing thine own
good in every way that
others may be fed, and yet
thy face speaks an inward
joy. I pray thee tell me how
thou hast found happiness."</p><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p>
<p>"<i>By never going in its
quest</i>," the friar answered.
"Long years ago I learned
a lesson from the stars. Our
holy Abbot took me out one
night into the quiet cloister,
and pointing to the glittering
heavens showed me my
duty in a way I never have
forgot. I had grown restive
in my lot and chafed against
its narrow round of cell and
cloister. But in a word he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
made me see that if I stepped
aside from that appointed
path, merely for mine own
pleasure, 'twould mar the
order of God's universe as
surely as if a planet swerved
from its eternal course.</p>
<p>"'No shining lot is thine,'
he said. 'Yet neither have
the stars themselves a light.
They but reflect the Central
Sun. And so mayst thou,
while swinging onward, faithful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
to thy orbit, reflect the
light of heaven upon thy
fellow men.'</p>
<p>"Since then I've had no
need to go a-seeking happiness,
for bearing cheer to
others keeps my own heart
a-shine.</p>
<p>"I pass the lesson on to
thee, good friend. Remember,
men need laughter
sometimes more than food,
and if thou hast no cheer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
thyself to spare, why, thou
mayst go a-gathering it from
door to door as I do crusts,
and carry it to those who
need."</p>
<p>Long after the good friar
had supped and gone, Aldebaran
sat in silence. Then
crossing to the tiny casement
that gave upon the
street, he stood and gazed
up at the stars. Long, long
he mused, fitting the friar's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
lesson to his own soul's
need, and when he turned
away, the old astrologer's
prophecy had taken on new
meaning.</p>
<p>"As Aldebaran the star
shines in the heavens" (<i>no
light within itself, but borrowing
from the Central
Sun</i>), "so Aldebaran the
man might shine among his
fellows." (<i>Beggared of joy
himself, yet flashing its reflection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
athwart the lives
of others.</i>)</p>
<p>When next he went into
the town he no longer
shunned the sights that
formerly he'd passed with
face averted, for well he
knew that if he would shed
joy and hope on others he
must go to places where
they most abound. What
matter that the thought of
Vesta stabbed him nigh to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>
madness when he looked on
hearth-fires that could never
blaze for him? With courage
almost more than human
he put that fond ambition
out of mind as if it were
another sword he'd learned
to sheathe. At first it would
not stay in hiding, but flew
the scabbard of his will to
thrust him sore as often as
he put it from him. But
after awhile he found a way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
to bind it fast, and when
he'd found that way it gave
him victory over all.</p>
<p>A little child came crying
towards him in the marketplace,
its world a waste of
woe because the toy it cherished
had been broken in its
play. Aldebaran would have
turned aside on yesterday to
press the barbed thought
still deeper in his heart that
he had been denied the joy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
of fatherhood. But now he
stooped as gently as if he
were the child's own sire to
wipe its tears and soothe its
sobs. And when with skilful
fingers he restored the
toy, the child bestowed on
him a warm caress out of
its boundless store.</p>
<p>He passed on with his
pulses strangely stirred.
'Twas but a crumb of love
the child had given, yet, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>
Aldebaran held it in his
heart, behold a miracle! It
grew full-loaf, and he would
fain divide it with all hungering
souls! So when a
stone's throw farther on he
met a man well-nigh distraught
from many losses,
he did not say in bitterness
as once he would have done,
that 'twas the common lot
of mortals; to look on him
if one would know the worst<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
that Fate can do. Nay,
rather did he speak so
bravely of what might still
be wrung from life though
one were maimed like he,
that hope sprang up within
his hearer and sent him on
his way with face a-shine.</p>
<p>That grateful smile was
like a revelation to Aldebaran,
showing him he had
indeed the power belonging
to the stars. Beggared of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
joy, no light within himself,
yet from the Central Sun
could he reflect the hope and
cheer that made him as the
eye of Taurus 'mong his
fellows.</p>
<p>The weeks slipped into
months, months into years.
The Jester went his way
unto his kindred and never
once was missed, because
Aldebaran more than filled
his place. In time the town<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
forgot it ever had another
Jester, and in time Aldebaran
began to feel the gladness
that he only feigned
before.</p>
<p><i>And then it came to pass,
whenever he went by, men
felt a strange, strength-giving
influence radiating from
his presence,—a sense of
hope. One could not say
exactly what it was, it was
so fleeting, so intangible, like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>
warmth that circles from a
brazier, or perfume that is
wafted from an unseen rose.</i></p>
<p>Thus he came down to
death at last, and there was
dole in all the Province, so
that pilgrims, journeying
through that way, asked
when they heard his passing-bell,
"What king is dead,
that all thus do him reverence?"</p>
<p>"'Tis but our Jester," one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
replied. "A poor maimed
creature in his outward
seeming, and yet so blithely
did he bear his lot, it seemed
a kingly spirit dwelt among
us, and earth is poorer for
his going."</p>
<p>All in his motley, since
he'd willed it so, they laid
him on his bier to bear him
back again unto his father's
house. And when they
found the Sword of Conquest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>
hidden underneath his
mantle, they marvelled he
had carried such a treasure
with him through the years,
all unbeknown even to those
who walked the closest at
his side.</p>
<p>When, after many days,
the funeral train drew
through the castle gate, the
king came down to meet it.
There was no need of blazoned
scroll to tell Aldebaran's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
story. All written
in his face it was, and on
his scarred and twisted
frame; and by the bloodstone
on his finger the old
king knew his son had failed
not in the keeping of his
oath. More regal than the
royal ermine seemed his
motley now. More eloquent
the sheathed sword that told
of years of inward struggle
than if it bore the blood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
of dragons, for on his face
there shone the peace that
comes alone of mighty triumph.</p>
<p>The king looked round
upon his nobles and his stalwart
sons, then back again
upon Aldebaran, lying in
silent majesty.</p>
<p>"Bring royal purple for
the pall," he faltered, "and
leave the Sword of Conquest
with him! No other hands<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
will ever be found worthier
to claim it!"</p>
<p>That night when tall white
candles burned about him
there stole a white-robed
figure to the flower-strewn
bier. 'Twas Vesta, decked
as for a bridal, her golden
tresses falling round her like
a veil. They found her
kneeling there beside him,
her face like his all filled
with starry light, and round<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
them both was such a wondrous
shining, the watchers
drew aside in awe.</p>
<p>"'Tis as the old astrologers
foretold," they whispered.
"Her soul hath
entered on its deathless
vigil. In truth he was the
bravest that this earth has
ever known."</p>
<div class='center'>THE END.</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<div class='center'><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</div>
<pre>
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