hin his hearer and sent him on
his way with face a-shine.

That grateful smile was like a revelation to Aldebaran, showing him he
had indeed the power belonging to the stars. Beggared of 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.

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 forgot it ever had another
Jester, and in time Aldebaran began to feel the gladness that he only
feigned 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, so
intangible, like warmth that circles from a brazier, or perfume that is
wafted from an unseen rose.

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?"

"'Tis but our Jester," one 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."

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 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.

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 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 of
dragons, for on his face there shone the peace that comes alone of
mighty triumph.

The king looked round upon his nobles and his stalwart sons, then back
again upon Aldebaran, lying in silent majesty.

"Bring royal purple for the pall," he faltered, "and leave the Sword of