The Fable
These first two very short stories I am posting book end Vashan Laskoc’s writing career, the one below being the first one to find its way into print while The Prisoner was found amongst his papers after his death. If you like there is a PDF file (simply click the link and it will open the PDF for you to save) at the bottom of this post for your download convenience. If you do choose to download it, please feel free to copy and spread it about as you like.:
The Fable-Vashan Laskoc
In my younger days, when I was nimble and full of vim, I was a traveling merchant, moving from one town to the next buying and selling, crissing and crossing the land. During this time I would also listen to stories the townsfolk told, and there is one in particular that interested me greatly for the villages were a great distance apart. This story was told exactly the same, almost word for word, until the end was reached. This was the only point where the two differed. Here is the story:
Long ago there was a man and a wife who had a child, a son, who then still was wearing short pants. They had a piece of land they worked, which was smaller than many of the other farmer’s parcels in the area, but the man was happy with what he had, for on his land was a spring that never went dry and a grove of birch trees that always provided cool shade, even on the hottest of days. His crops always provided more than they needed and the chickens, ducks and two goats they had flourished. One day soldiers came and told them the count was taking their land for his own. The man protested, but the soldiers were fierce and rattled their weapons saying there was nothing the farmer could do. His only choice was to go to the count and request a boon; perhaps he would be fortunate.
The man and his wife went to their neighbors, told them what had taken place and left their child with them while they went to the city. Much time passed after this and one day the neighbor came to the child. “Child, we fear your parents have been killed for questioning the count’s orders. We are old and have barely enough for ourselves. You must seek your own way.” He gave the boy a sharp belt knife saying, “do with this what you may.”
The boy went to the city and begged for food and alms, but never did he let anyone see the knife, for he had vowed that only the count would see it. He had sworn that he would exact his revenge upon the count for taking his father’s land and killing his parents. He was fortunate and was taken on as a stable boy in the count’s castle. He worked very hard, did not speak out, and never caused trouble. Everyone thought highly of him but the furnace of his vengeance was what made him tireless. This went on for some years.
One night he was awakened. A message had come, but the rider was near death. The boy was told to take the message up to the count’s rooms. The boy, now a young man, virtually flew through the castle, realizing his chance, the knife was as a red-hot brand against his skin. The young man arrived at the count’s chambers, knocked on the door and entered.
Here is where the two tales diverge. In the east they tell it this way: the young man entered the room and saw the count. As he crossed the room he heard a rustling and then a man leapt from behind one of the tapestries that covered the windows when it was cold. The boy realized the man’s intent of killing the count and a voice rose up within the young man No! Only I can realize vengeance upon the count! He leapt in front of the man and felt the assassin’s blade plunge into his chest. The last sight his eyes beheld was the count killing the intruder. Afterward the count raised a statue to him and the boy was praised as a hero who had given his life to save the count’s.
In the west of the kingdom they recount the tale thus: Upon entering the count’s chambers, the boy held his knife behind his back, prepared to strike the final blow and finally take revenge for his parents. He was forestalled when he found the count on the floor dead. The young man could find no wounds upon the count. The young man who had fed on vengeance for years was as a squash or melon, split open, with all the seeds and meat removed. After that day, he was only a barren husk.
You decide which is the better ending.
