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(This is I story I used to read when I was little if anyone cares to look at it ^^)
Death's Godson
In a small Spanish village there lived a poor peasant and his wife who were blessed one day with the birth of a son. The father was so happy that he made up his mind to give the boy a very special godfather.
Without more ado, he set out in search of a godfather worthy of his son. He had not walked far when he ran into the Devil.
"Hello there, Jose," said the Devil, winking at the wandering peasant. "I hear you are seeking a godfather for your newborn son. Well, your search is over: where is the world could you find a more worthy godfather than me? I am the best there is."
'Away with you, Satan," said the poor man. "I know of your devilish ways. You may be strong, but you do not know the meaning of justice and goodness. It is such qualities a poor man values most."
At this rebuff, the Devil snorted, leapt up and down in a fury, then vanished whence he had come, his long tail between his legs.
Some time later, Jose's path chanced to cross that of a Saint, who stopped him and said politely, "Ah, my son, I hear you seek a godfather for your newborn child. 'Tis true, I have no earthly riches, but I am as honest as the day is long. Would I be suitable?"
Jose was impressed by the Saint's kind offer, but he shook his head firmly.
"I am sorry, but you cannot help me. Your reputation is, of course, spotless, but you haven't a peseta to your name. I seek a godfather who can help my son get on in life."
"Your words weigh heavy on my soul," replied the Saint. "Ambition is not always a wise companion."
With that the Saint went on his way.
The poor peasant continued his journey. As he walked along a desolate mountain path, he suddenly came upon a gaunt figure in white blocking his way. In great dread, he recognised the solemn figure standing before him. It was Death.
Her fleshless bones were clad in a long white shroud; her gleaming eyeless skull was hooded and, in her left hand, she held a long sharp scythe.
Jose was terrified.
"Is my time up?" he asked aghast. "Why do you stand across my path?"
"No," she replied. "Your time is not yet due. I am here because I know of your quest. You have spoken with the Devil and the Saint; and neither suit your needs. It is not a godfather you should seek, a godmother would be much more fitting. So I am here to offer you my services."
"I am well pleased by your offer," replied Jose when he had got over his shock and surprise. "You are the very person I am looking for. You are all-powerful, for in your presence every person quakes with fear, whether he be rich or poor, great or small, young or old. Your judgement is final and your sharp scythe spares no one. You are indeed the ideal godmother for my son. The christening shall be celebrated this coming Saturday."
The hooded skull nodded. "You will not regret it," came the hollow voice. "When my godson attains the age of twenty years, he will lack neither fame nor fortune. That I promise. You have chosen wisely. I shall attend the christening at nine o'clock precisely."
Having found a godmother suited to his needs, Jose turned back and headed home for home. By the time Saturday arrived, everyone was talking about Jose's unusual choice of godparent for his son. The local priest had spent much time searching in the holy scripts for good reasons to prevent the uncommon baptism. But he found none.
Punctual as ever, Death arrived at the church on the stroke of nine. The crowded congregation gaped at her in awe, but Death paid them no heed as she walked very slowly through the church. She seemed to cast a spell of silence upon all present.
Once the ceremony was over, Death gave Jose a bag of gold, and said, "When my godson reaches the age of twenty, I shall return. Then I shall bestow much honour and glory upon him."
With that she gently touched the child upon the head with her fleshless hand, as if a blessing, caressing him with her bony fingers. The congregation watched in fear as she departed in the same sombre manner as she had come.
Time passed quickly. The months and the years flew by, and it came to the time for Death's godson to celebrate his twentieth birthday. No one had cast from their mind the promised visit of Death on that fateful day; and every member of Jose's household grew more and more nervous as the hour of destiny drew near.
Finally, at midday, when the birthday celebrations were at their height, a window clattered open and a chill gust of wind swept into the room. Death in her white shroud appeared before them.
"Happy Birthday, Godson," she said. "I am glad to see you have grown up into a strong handsome young man, and I am exceedingly proud to be your godmother. I trust soon you will be proud of me."
"I am already grateful to you, Godmother," replied the poor peasant's son. "For, thanks to your gold, we have never lacked for anything in this house."
"That is nothing compared to the gift I am about to grant you," she said. "Come with me for a moment, I wish to speak to you alone."
The young man followed his godmother into a adjoining room and sat beside her, as she bade him.
"The time is nigh for me to fulfil my pledge," said Death quietly. "I promised your father that I would make you a man of means, commanding great respect. As ever, I shall keep my promise."
Thereupon she took out a sprig of some unknown herb from beneath her shroud.
"Take this magic herb," she said. "With its help you will become the most famous physician in all the land. When you visit someone who is, simply cast your gaze to the bedhead: should you see me standing by the right side, instruct the family to make a potion from this herb. In no time at all the patient will recover, no matter how grave the illness.
"However, should you see me standing on the left side of the bedhead, do not use the magic herb at any cost. The patient is fated to die and the herb cannot change this. If you try to go against my will and save someone who must die, you will bring yourself much grief.
"No matter how many times you use this herb, it will remain as fresh and potent as before. And mark this- only you will be able to see me; to all others I shall remain invisible."
As she finished speaking, she touched her godson on the shoulder with her bony hand and left the house. He was well pleased with his gift, having complete faith in his powers, for he knew that Death always kept her word.
And so it was. The fame of the young doctor spread rapidly throughout Spain and, in spite of his young years, he soon became the most sought-after physician in the land. He could earn as much money as he liked, and he lived the life of a rich gentleman.
It was said of him that he worked miracles- giving a potion made from a magic herb which always cured the patient within three days. But it was also whispered that if the young doctor said someone would die, then they were undoubtedly doomed.
One day Death's godson was called to the home of a very rich and influential family. The patient was the couple's only son, a three-year-old boy. Nothing pleased the doctor more than being able to cure such helpless victims of disease as young children. Full of confidence, he took up his magic herb and headed to the mansion.
Weeping inconsolably, the mother and father recieved him and immediately showed him to the sick room where the little boy was lying. As soon as he entered, the doctor froze with fear, for above the little, moaning form stood Death- on the left side of the bedhead. He looked at his godmother, pleading with her silently to reprieve the little child. But Death, as we all know, is pitiless. She returned his look with a cold hard stare.
"Sir," the mother said, as the silence lengthened ominously into minutes,"will my little son be saved? I know that only you can give the answer."
The doctor hesitated, looking into Death's sightless eyes. After several moments more, he firmly turned away from his godmother and said, "Yes Senora, he will be saved. Make him a potion from this herb, and he will recover."
The mother threw herself at his feet, overcome with gratitude and happiness. She promised to reward him with whatsoever he desired for saving her dear son's life.
"I require no reward, Senora," he said. "I am already a rich man. Your son's recovery is reward enough for me."
When the young doctor arrived back home, he found it as cold and still as death. A moaning, biting wind swept every room, making his teeth chatter and his body tremble. He knew at once who he would find there waiting for him.
His godmother was standing in the house, with a countenance terrible enough to chill the strongest heart.
"Fool!" she cried. "How dare you disobey me! I stood clearly on the left side of the child's bed. You saw me perfectly well, yet you deliberately ignored me."
"I am truly sorry, Godmother," he said with downcast eyes. "My heart bled at the thought of the child's death. Pray find it in your heart to pardon me this once."
"I have never pardoned anyone, for I have no heart," she said. "Yet I do not understand this strange feeling I have for you that causes me to neglect my duties. I will forgive you just this once."
Death's godson knelt before his godmother and kissed the hem of her shroud in gratitude. Death's lipless mouth parted in what was, perhaps, a smile.
The young doctor's fame went before him throughout Spain and one day he was summoned to the royal court where the king himself lay on his deathbed. The entire country was deeply saddened by this sickness since the king was good and just and well-liked by his subjects. Were he to die, his evil nephew, whom everybody feared and hated, would take the crown. The king had no son of his own and, since his daughter was unmarried, there was no son-in-law to inherit the kingdom.
The doctor entered the palace, where he was recieved by the princess and the court. Although consumed by her grief, the princess somehow felt her heart grow lighter on seeing.
"Oh, kind sir," she begged, "please do all you can to save my father's life. Were he to die, the country would be doomed into misery and I should be forced to marry my evil cousin."
Tears welled up once more in her lovely hazel eyes, overflowed and ran uncontrollably down her pallid cheeks.
Moved by the wistful beauty of the princess, the doctor gave his word to do all that was in his power. He hoped with all his heart that his godmother would not appear on the left side of the bedhead.
He was ushered into the royal bedchamber where the king lay pale and still on the silken. And Death stood behind him on the left.
Utterly despondent, the young doctor remained silent for several moments, pretending to examine the patient.
The princess. standing beside him, could not endure the long silence, and asked in a barely audible whisper, "Dear sir, can you save my father?"
"I think not," He replied gently, avoiding her gaze. But when he looked and saw the misery in her eyes, he continued, without realising what he was saying,"Do not grieve princess, Princess. On second thoughts, your father will be saved."
As he made his way home later that day, he walked with a heavy, fearful tread. For he knew only to well that his godmother would be waiting for him. And so she was; as he entered the house, the dank, pervasive smell of the grave assailed his nostrils and a piercing wind chilled him to the marrow.
Death was standing before a large open window, her white shroud billowing through the room, her bare skull twisted in a dreadful scowl. Even though the young man was used to pain and suffering, he could not hold back a cry of horror when he confronted the dreadful sight.
"You have disobeyed me a second time," Death hissed. "You have cheated Death; no one has dared to do that before. Now you must be punished as you deserve."
"No, Godmother, I beg of you," cried the young man. "What I did was wrong, I know. But I did it to save the country and the princess. She is so beautiful, gentle and kind, and her cousin whom she must wed, should her father die, is a loathsome creature. I disobeyed you to bring happiness to others. Please forgive me."
"Mortal feelings mean nothing to me," Death said. "What must be must be; you cannot alter that. However, I understand that what you did was not for yourself, so I shall forgive you a second time. But mark my words well: there will be no third pardon. Should you cross me a third time, you shall suffer the fate of the one you try to save."
Two years passed by. In the meantime, the doctor was apponted Court Physician and personal adviser to the King of Spain. There was no one in the entire kingdom more highly esteemed as he. Yet what pleased the young man most was not the honours he recieved, nor the fame he acquired. What pleased him the most was the love he knew the princess had for him and he for her. The king grew to trust him well and, given time, they hoped he would permit his daughter to wed the poor peasant's son.
However, one day the princess fell ill, and had to take to her bed. During the night she became much worse and the doctor was called was called to see her early the following morning. He entered the bedroom with great dread, for he knew that if his godmother were at the left side of the bedhead he could do nothing.
The lace curtains that had draped over the royal four-poster bed were now drawn right back to give more light and there- (Oh horror!)- was Death standing on the left. Her sightless eye sockets stared defiantly at her godson.
Upon seeing her beloved, the princess smiled weakly. "I knew you would come," she said with a sigh. "I feel much better now because I know I am safe in your hands."
His eyes moist with tears, he avoided her gaze and ordered a potion to be prepared with the magic herb. He dared not look in the direction of his godmother who stood there pointing a condemning finger at him.
Bending over his beloved princess, he whispered, "You have nothing to fear, my true love."
When he returned to his house towards dusk, a damp, bone-chilling wind lashed his face as soon as he crossed the threshhold. His godmother, standing gaunt and tall and white before him, stared at him mournfully without uttering a sound. Was it fancy, or were there tears glistening in her empty eye-sockets?
"I cannot be angry with you, my godson, for there is nothing I can do to save you now. Come with me; I have something to show you."
The young man followed Death across valley's and meadows as in a dream, and he presently found himself in a mysterious valley filled with white boulders and bare stones. Not a single blade of grass, not a flower, not a shrub or tree grew there.
"Come," said Death beckoning him on, "I shall show you something that no one else has ever seen."
Death's godson followed her numbly into an enormous cavern. The floor was covered with thousands upon thousands of lighted candles of all sizes.
"What are these candles, Godmother?" he enquired.
"Each candle represents a human life, my godson," she said. "The very tall ones are the lives of the newborn; the medium-sized ones are those of folk in middle years; and the shortest ones are those of the old and ailing."
Death stopped suddenly before a candle whose feeble flame was flickering weakly.
"Godmother," said the doctor, "whose flame of life is that?"
'It is the flame of your beloved princess, and it must soon go out. I cannot prevent her death."
Death's godson looked in sadness at his godmother as she went on, "I can but offer you, my only godson, the fate which must befall all men at some time or another. I am the sole possessor of the dreadful power which enables me to unite you with your loved one. Death will not keep you apart. I shall extinguish your flame as well. That will be my final gift to you."
Her icy breath filled the cave.
At once Death's godson fell down at her feet as the two candles flickered and died together.
Disclaimer: This story belongs to these people:
-A Illistrated Treasury of Fairy and Folk Tales- James Riordan, Hamlyn Publishing
 jadepheonix_kristuya · Sun Mar 11, 2007 @ 05:09am · 0 Comments |
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