The Jester went hisway unto his kindred and never once was missed, because Aldebaran morethan filled his place. In time the town forgot it ever had anotherJester, and in time Aldebaran began to feel the gladness that he onlyfeigned before.
_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, sointangible, like warmth that circles from a brazier, or perfume that iswafted from an unseen rose._
Thus he came down to death at last, and there was dole in all theProvince, so that pilgrims, journeying through that way, asked when theyheard his passing-bell, "What king is dead, that all thus do himreverence?"
"'Tis but our Jester," one replied. "A poor maimed creature in hisoutward seeming, and yet so blithely did he bear his lot, it seemed akingly spirit dwelt among us, and earth is poorer for his going."
All in his motley, since he'd willed it so, they laid him on his bier tobear him back again unto his father's house. And when they found theSword of Conquest hidden underneath his mantle, they marvelled he hadcarried such a treasure with him through the years, all unbeknown evento those who walked the closest at his side.
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 totell Aldebaran's story. All written in his face it was, and on hisscarred and twisted frame; and by the bloodstone on his finger the oldking knew his son had failed not in the keeping of his oath. More regalthan the royal ermine seemed his motley now. More eloquent the sheathedsword that told of years of inward struggle than if it bore the bloodof dragons, for on his face there shone the peace that comes alone ofmighty triumph.
The king looked round upon his nobles and his stalwart sons, then backagain upon Aldebaran, lying in silent majesty.
"Bring royal purple for the pall," he faltered, "and leave the Sword ofConquest with him! No other hands will ever be found worthier to claimit!"
That night when tall white candles burned about him there stole awhite-robed figure to the flower-strewn bier. 'Twas Vesta, decked as fora bridal, her golden tresses falling round her like a veil. They foundher kneeling there beside him, her face like his all filled with starrylight, and round them both was such a wondrous shining, the watchersdrew aside in awe.
"'Tis as the old astrologers foretold," they whispered. "Her soul hathentered on its deathless vigil. In truth he was the bravest that thisearth has ever known."
THE END.
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Transcriber's Note: Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
The Jester's Sword Page 4
