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THE JESTER'S SWORD

[Illustration]

BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON




_The JESTER'S SWORD_




The Johnston Jewel Series

BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON


Each, small 16mo, cloth, decorated cover and frontispiece, with
decorative text borders _75c._

       *       *       *       *       *

LIST OF TITLES

      THE RESCUE OF THE PRINCESS WINSOME: A Fairy Play for
          Old and Young.

      KEEPING TRYST: A Tale of King Arthur's Time.

      *IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: The Legend of Camelback
          Mountain.

      *THE THREE WEAVERS: A Fairy Tale for Fathers and
          Mothers as Well as for Their Daughters.

      THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART.

      *THE JESTER'S SWORD.

*Also bound in full flexible leather, with special tooling in gold,
boxed

_$2.00_

       *       *       *       *       *

    THE PAGE COMPANY
    53 BEACON STREET, BOSTON, MASS.

[Illustration]




_THE JESTER'S SWORD_

       *       *       *       *       *

How Aldebaran, the King's Son, Wore the Sheathed Sword of Conquest

       *       *       *       *       *

BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

_Author of "The Little Colonel Series," "Big Brother," "Joel: A Boy of
Galilee," "In the Desert of Waiting," etc._

[Illustration]

    BOSTON
    _THE PAGE COMPANY_
    Publishers




    _Copyright, 1908_
    BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
    (INCORPORATED)

    _Copyright, 1909_
    BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
    (INCORPORATED)

    _All rights reserved_

    First Impression, June, 1909
    Second Impression, August, 1909
    Third Impression, October, 1910
    Fourth Impression, November, 1911
    Fifth Impression, November, 1912
    Sixth Impression, January, 1916
    Seventh Impression, August, 1917
    Eighth Impression, April, 1920




    TO
    John




      "_To renounce when that shall be necessary and not be
      embittered._"                     R. L. STEVENSON.




_The Jester's Sword_


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 courage would
be the jewel of his soul.

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 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.

So from the cradle it was destined for Aldebaran, and from the cradle it
was his greatest teacher. His old 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, "_As
Aldebaran the star shines in the heavens, Aldebaran the man shall shine
among his fellows._"

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 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:

"_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._"

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.

One by one his elder 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 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.

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
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 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.

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 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.

'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 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.

Young, strong, with the impetuous blood begotten of success tingling
through all his veins, he had no thought that dire mishap could seize
on _him_; that pain or malady or mortal weakness could pierce _his_
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 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.

And as he journeyed on he pictured often to himself the day of his
returning, the day 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. Was not he born for conquest? Did not the very stars
foretell success?

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
glorious battle would rid the country of its dreaded foe. Already
tasting victory, he fell asleep, a smile upon his lips.

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 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.

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 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.

As in a daze he looked upon himself, thinking some hideous nightmare had
him in its hold. "That is not _I_!" he cried, in horror at the thought.
Then as the truth began to pierce his soul, he sat with starting