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 Conquest with him!  No other hands will ever be found worthier to claim it!”

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 them both was such a wondrous shining, the watchers drew aside in awe.

“’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.”

The porter was lighting the lamps when Mary finished reading.  There was one directly above her.  She moved her hand so that the light fell on her zodiac ring, and sat turning it this way and that to watch the dull gleams.  By the bloodstone on her finger she was vowing that her courage should fail not in helping Jack “pick up the gauntlet which Despair flung down, and wage the warfare to his very grave.”

All the way through the story she had read Jack for Aldebaran, and it should be her part to play the role of the Jester who had led him back to hope.  She opened the book again at the sentence, “The motto written deep across his heart was this:  ‘To ease the burden of the world.’” Henceforth that should be her aim in life, to ease Jack’s burden.  Together, “by sheathed sword since blade was now denied him,” they would prove his right to the Sword of Conquest.