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Page 63
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, so 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 troubador, 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 one's
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.
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