The Three Soldiers
by Dory Lee Maske
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2009 by Dory Lee Maske
All rights reserved
Illustration © 2009 by Robert Maske
All rights reserved
Cover design by Robert Maske
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The Three Soldiers
Once upon a time there were three soldiers who were best of friends from fighting side by side. As the war had ended and the King had no further need of their services, he gave each of them a small pension and dismissed them. They journeyed back from the foreign lands and made plans for the future.
The first soldier, who had lost a foot, said he would seek after a life of gaiety and sport. "The first tavern I come to will be left dry as a desert. I will dance with every lady in the town on one foot and one peg; then I will move on to the next town." He smoked his pipe and laughed about the adventures he would have.
The second soldier, who had lost a hand, said he would seek after wealth. "This small pension from the King will not suffice," he said. "Better he should have given me more, for now I will take what I need by force." He planned to take his due from those who had not risked their lives in fighting. "Now they are at risk with me," he said, "and if I can take from the King himself, all the better." He paced around the campfire and savored his plans to become rich and powerful.
The third soldier, who had not been wounded, said he must seek after peace. "The lost souls of the war cry out constantly in my head," he said. "I can hardly sleep or eat from listening to them." He held his head as though to calm the voices. "I will seek the help of a healer or a seer to rid me of these voices, for I can not even think my own thoughts or make any plans as long as they torment me."
The three pledged eternal friendship and promised to meet again in two years in the very same spot to assure themselves of the others' well-being and to find out how each had fared in his quest. They each pulled off two brass buttons from their uniforms and gave one to each of their comrades to remind themselves of their pledge.
The first soldier soon came to a town and sought out a tavern without delay. There he stayed drinking wine, engaging in wagers and endearing himself to the ladies who would listen to stories of his adventures. He lived each day to the fullest and thought he had found the life of his deepest desires.
The second soldier took up residence in a dark part of the forest. From here he recruited a band of thieves. They waylaid travelers and began to accumulate wealth and reputation until few dared to venture into the forest. The band changed their camp from time to time to find fresh prey and avoid capture. The soldier was pleased with his accumulation of wealth and even more pleased that the king was in an uproar over the forest bandits. He felt his life was sweet with revenge.
The third soldier tried many healers and seers but none could help rid him of the voices that cried out to him to end their despair. He was in despair himself and almost wished that he had died in the wars. He walked along holding his head one day when he passed an old man who was likewise holding his head and talking out loud. On his hand the old man had a small tattoo that marked him as a soldier.
The soldier stopped to listen to the old man who seemed to be engaged in a loud argument with an invisible person.
"To whom do you speak?" the soldier asked. "I see no one here but you and I."
"Ah, you can't see them but they are here, the lost souls who plague me day and night," the old man said.
"But I hear the voices as well," said the young soldier, who was somehow happy to find another who suffered as he did.
The two men talked together all that day. The old man was a soldier from a past war scarcely remembered now by any except himself. He had also tried to find help to no avail. He said a story-teller had told him once of a singing dove that had the power to bring peace to any person who heard its song but he did not know if the dove was a fable or a fact and he was too old now to try for it.
"I have grown accustomed to the voices," he said. "They are my companions and I foresee that I will soon be joining them."
The soldier could not stop thinking about the dove. He continued to question the old man, but the old man seemed past caring. Finally the soldier said, "Whether this dove be fact or fable, all other roads lead to despair. We must go and seek out this story-teller. What other choice do we have?"
The old man agreed reluctantly, and they started off to the town where the old man had heard the story.
The town was three days' journey through a desert. The soldier carried water and food for both—the old man seemed not to care if he lived or died. Each night the soldier made sure the old man ate and drank before he closed his eyes and listened to his own lost souls as well as the old man's continual arguing with invisible demons. When they reached the town they were both parched and exhausted. An inn-keeper took pity on the strange pair.
Bathed and refreshed, the old man was somewhat calmed and the soldier told the inn-keeper of their quest.
"I know the story-teller you seek, the inn-keeper said, "for I remember her telling that story one cold night. She lives near here but she often travels to nearby towns selling her wares which are her stories. I will send a runner to commission her if she is at home."
The soldier waited impatiently but was rewarded with the runner's announcement. "Gather round all seekers, for tonight we will listen and learn."
With this brief prelude a smiling old woman walked through an archway and sat in a chair near the fireplace. "I'm told I'm here by special request," she said as she searched the faces of those gathered around the fire.
The soldier stood up. "Please, Madame Story-teller, will you tell the story of the Singing Dove who brings peace to all that hear its song?"
"Why of course. That is an excellent choice," she said. "Gather round, any who would hear this sad tale." She cleared her throat and began.
"Once upon a time there lived a beautiful princess whose life was rich with blessings. Her father's kingdom was wealthy beyond words. She was soon to wed a young prince she had known from childhood, one who had been her friend and one she now loved deeply. Her future happiness was assured in every way.
"But then disaster struck. An army of invaders reached the kingdom and war broke out on every front. The young prince pledged himself to the king's service and took over the command of the troops. The war raged for many months and the young prince fought valiantly. The kingdom was slowly closed off by the invaders and the people within began to die of hunger and thirst.
"Finally the king and queen died, the prince was killed and the princess was taken prisoner. She was sold as a slave. It mattered little to her by this time, for all that she had loved were gone and she often wished for death herself.
"One day as she worked cleaning the endless plates and goblets that filled her kitchen world, she accidently knocked over an old bottle from a shelf. She knew she would be beaten for her clumsiness but it scarcely mattered to her. As she bent to pick up the pieces a small cloud began to escape from the broken shards. The cloud grew in size until it towered over her in the shape of a genie.
"I regret my clumsiness," she said simply. "I see I have destroyed your home."
The genie looked at her with surprise. "On the contrary," he said, "you have destroyed my prison."
The genie instantly saw the poor girl's situation and took pity on her. "Since you have freed me from my prison, I will do the same for you," the genie said. "Tell me your heart's desire and I will grant it."
"Alas," said the girl, "my heart is broken and has no more lust for life; would that I could be instead a singing bird at peace with myself and others."
"Done," said the genie, and the girl found herself instantly out of the kitchen flying over a beautiful garden atop a mountain.
"All her pain was gone and when she opened her mouth the most beautiful of music swelled out effortlessly. Her heart was filled with joy and her eyes never tired of looking at the garden.
"The genie stationed himself at the entrance to the garden lest any disturb the Singing Dove."
The story-teller stopped at this point in the story and looked at the soldier.
"Does the story meet with your expectations?" she asked
"It is a sad, yet wonderful story, but I need to know if it is true." he answered.
"I have learned that the truth of a story lies in the heart of the listener," the story-teller said.
"I want it to be true," the soldier said. "I have heard that all who hear the song of the Singing Dove will find their own peace and so this old man and I have vowed to find her."
"I see," the story-teller said. "Then I must warn you that the path to what you seek is a dangerous one."
She looked into the fire as she continued the tale.
"Rumors of the Singing Dove and her power to bring peace came from various diviners and seers. Many hungered after peace who had lived through the terrible wars, and many sought out the path up the mountain.
"But the genie had come to love the Singing Dove and he put out traps and snares to keep out intruders and thieves. The streams which ran down the mountain, he made cool and sweet, so wonderful that one who tasted them lost all reason and forgot why he had come. Such a one would wonder about until he happened onto the next snare—the velvet flowers which gave off a fragrance so lovely that nothing could compare. As soon as the unfortunate one smelled such a flower he was turned to stone.
"The genie remained at the entrance to the garden in case any should elude his first two traps, but none ever succeeded."
The soldier listened carefully to every word of the tale. He begged the story-teller to point the way to the mountain. She told him that he path led directly into the rising sun of autumn, and she wished him a safe journey.
The soldier and the old man started off the next morning with supplies and warm wishes from the inn-keeper and the others who had come to hear the story-teller the previous night. The old man continued to rail at his mental mirages as they said their good-byes.
Their journey to the foot of the mountain took the better part of a year. In each town the soldier told the story of their quest, and in each town the people asked him to return with the Singing Dove if he should find it. Many helped them with food and lodging which was fortunate, because the soldier's small pension was almost gone. The old man seemed to be losing strength along the way and the soldier feared the man might find peace of a different sort before they reached the mountain.
When at last they stood looking up at the mountain, the beauty was such that even the old man was awed into a brief silence. While the voices of lost souls jangled in his mind, the soldier's eyes delighted in what they saw. Streams that sparkled and danced ran down the mountain in waterfalls. Rainbows played over the falls in constantly changing patterns. The two men ran up the path to the closest waterfall. A little sandy beach beckoned them to rest and refresh themselves. Only the voices in his head kept the soldier from falling victim to the water's seduction. The old man gazed longingly at the falls and the soldier was hard pressed to keep him moving up the path.
As the two walked up the trail, the landscape became more lush. Now the falls were lined with blocks of multi-colored velvety flowers. The soldier stopped to stare at their splendor. In that brief instant the old man escaped his notice and before he could be stopped, drank of the sparkling water. He looked at the soldier and laughed out loud.
"They're gone," he shouted, "they're finally gone." He leaped from the waterfall and flung himself into the flowers, laughing insanely, gathering up bunches of blooms; and then he was gone—only a black stone stood in his place.
The soldier cursed himself for his weakness in allowing the old man to wander off. He pulled the stone toward him with a stick, being careful not to smell the flowers. He held the stone to his chest and wept.
"At least he died in a happy moment," he thought. "Perhaps I should do the same."
After a time the soldier forced himself to move on, but he could not leave the stone behind. He carried it with him up the mountain. When he came to the entrance to the garden he saw a beauty different from the untamed beauty of the mountainside. Here at the top of the mountain was a beauty born of harmony and peace. He saw the genie that stood at the entrance and he saw beyond just a glimpse of the garden's perfection.
"You have come a long way in vain," the genie said. "Now you will join your friend in a stony peace.
As the genie grew out around him, the soldier clasped the remains of the old man tightly and awaited his fate. At the moment that he felt a stiff coldness close on his heart, he heard the singing of a bird overhead. The chill left him and he looked up to see a pure white dove circling above him singing a song that drove the voices from his head and caressed him like a warm breeze. The genie seemed to be listening as well.
"Who is this man you carry with you?" the genie asked, "and what is the meaning of that mark?"
The soldier looked at the stone and noticed that the old man's tattoo was now etched in the stone.
"He as a soldier in a war long forgotten. This was the mark of his allegiance," the soldier said.
The bird began to sing again and the soldier no longer cared what happened to him, so perfect was the peace that overtook him. He was roused from his lethargy and overcome with emotion when the stone bolted from his hands and the old man reappeared before him.
In a voice as musical as a song the dove began to speak to the old man.
"This was the mark of those who fought with my father, the King. I had given up all hope that I would ever find a survivor from that dreadful war. You must come and stay with me in my garden and let me soothe your troubled soul. Bring your friend as well who loved you even after you were lost. We have much to celebrate."
And so they lived for a time together in the garden. The soldier learned to play many of the Dove's songs on a flute. The Dove showered affection on the old man and the old man recaptured much of his love of life. He told the Dove what he could remember of the last days of her beloved prince.
The soldier could easily have stayed in the garden forever, but he felt the brass buttons in his pocket and he knew the two years since he had left his two soldier comrades were almost gone. The Dove told him to keep the flute and play the songs he had learned for his soldier friends. The old man decided to spend the rest of his days on the mountain top with the Dove, and they all said goodbye at the garden gate. The genie picked him up in a whirlwind that deposited him close to the chosen meeting place.
The day of the meeting arrived and the soldier waited, practicing the songs he would play for his friends. As night fell he made a fire and continued to wait. By next morning he knew his friends were not coming. He resolved to go and find them and so he started off in the direction the first had gone. Before long he came to a town and inquired after his friend at the tavern.
The tavern owner recognized the soldier's description at once.
"That scum, Pegleg, of course I know him," he said. "He's fathered three children by three women and he can't support a one of them. He's drunk all the time, owes everyone money, and as far as I can see, is good for nothing. You'll likely find him down the road with his hand out."
Just as the tavern owner had predicted, the soldier found his friend in a stupor beside the road. The drunken man did not at first recognize his old friend. The soldier took out his flute and began to play some songs. Gradually Pegleg began to listen and finally he recognized the flute player as his old companion.
"My life has become a nightmare," Pegleg said as he began to sober. "I never meant to harm anyone but somehow I have managed to hurt those I loved as well as myself."
"Never mind," the soldier said to Pegleg. We will make it right together, but for now we must find our missing companion."
The two set out together in the direction the second soldier had taken. As they neared the forest they saw fewer and fewer travelers and those they did see warned them to stay away from the densely forested river area.
"Iron Hand and his thieves lay in wait there," they said. "That one shows no mercy."
The two soldiers feared that Iron Hand was their old companion and had made good his threats.
As they journeyed toward the dense river area, the forest grew very dark and still. They wondered what they would say to their old friend now that he had become an outlaw. As they sat together by the fire warming themselves against the cold night, they assured one another that no matter what he had become, they would not forsake their old friend. The did not see or hear the dark figures around them until they attacked.
The two soldiers tried to defend themselves, but they were out-numbered. They were beaten cruelly and when the thieves found they had no money or jewels, they beat them all the more. When the soldiers cried out for Iron Hand, the thieves laughed and said Iron Hand would meet them, but they would regret the meeting.
The next morning the thieves informed Iron Hand that they had waylaid two travelers who had been a waste of time. When Iron Hand was told they had cried out for him, he supposed they had been sent by the king to try to arrange some sort of truce.
"I will give the king his reply," Iron Hand said with an evil sneer. "Show me these king's toadies."
When his two comrades were brought before him, badly beaten and abused, Iron Hand was horrified. He raged at their captors and tried to kill them, but they managed to escape, sure that Iron Hand had lost his mind.
Iron Hand nursed his friends back to health and never ceased despairing of what he had done.
"Even if you could forgive me," he told them, "I could never forgive myself. Look where my hatred has taken me."
As the flute player regained his strength he said little, but began to play the songs he had learned from the Singing Dove. Iron Hand finally ceased condemning himself and listened thoughtfully to the music. The three gradually began to talk and renew their bonds.
Pegleg related his sad chronicle and Iron Hand vowed that Pegleg's children would never want for anything. They were amazed at the story of the Singing Dove and knew it was true by the effect the songs were having on them.
"There are no problems we cannot overcome together," they said.
After much discussion Iron Hand decided to search for the travelers his thieves had waylaid and return their wealth to them secretly as far as he was able. He would live with his two friends and take up a job as a trainer of wild horses.
The three men returned to Pegleg's town. Although Pegleg offered to marry all or any of his children's mothers, they all refused. He learned the trade of a tailor and delighted in making clothes for his three children. He supported each of their mothers and before long they had good feelings toward Pegleg. They allowed their children to visit him and play at the home of the three soldiers.
Iron Hand traveled frequently in search of wild horses to train. He was often gone for long periods of time. His travels were something of a mystery. Often people spoke of a man riding a wild horse who would ride by at night leaving money or jewels on a doorstep with no explanation. Some said he was a ghost or a phantom, but the money was real enough. Iron Hand scoffed at the stories and said in his dealings with wild horses he had never seen such a phantom.
The flute player apprenticed himself to the story-teller, who was grateful, as she was growing old and wanted to leave her stories in someone's care. He accompanied her and played his songs after she told her stories. They were much in demand, as their presence seemed to bring peace to each town they visited. By the time the story-teller died, the flute player knew all her stories.
The three soldiers lived happily for many years and perhaps continue to this day.
The End