The Legend of the Soldier and Death
The Tale of the Russian
This story I tell begins a thousand miles from anywhere, after twenty years of war, there was a soldier. He was an honest soul carrying with him one shilling in his pocket and three dry biscuits for the long trudge home. Oh, yes! One thousand miles the soldier marched whistling his tuneless whistle. Having spent his shilling, he was now down to his three dry biscuits. While traveling down a lonely road, he met a fiddler, who was down on his luck. The soldier stopped and listen the fiddler's music. After the fiddler ended his melody, the soldier applauded joyously.
"A merry tune you have there!"
The fiddler looked at him and said, "Is it worth a farthing, sir?"
"More," said the soldier, "but, I have nothing to give you." The soldier thought for a moment and continued. "I have a biscuit you may take."
The fiddler smiled at him graciously, and said, "You are a good man, Soldier, and you deserve a better whistle."
And off the soldier went and took up with his tuneless whistle, but funny, peculiar, and strange indeed: this time his tune was so beautiful that the nightingale hung her head in shame. Whistling his joyous tune the soldier continued down the long road, until he met another poor man down on his luck and worn at the edges. The old man played a grand jig on his drum! The soldier stopped and whistled his ruby whistle and did a small clumsy dance in his weary boots - a-stumblin' and a-hoppin'. Then the soldier swapped another biscuit, and now his dance was lively and well-kept like none other. Oh, yes, the soldier was doing well now, a skip and a hop down the road.
At length, he came to a third old soul, worn to a whisper and playing a game of cards by the road. The soldier looked at the fellow as he shuffled the deck and dealt out the cards - a perfect hand; he gave the soldier a splendid performance. The soldier ended with a huge clap!
"A splendid game!" the soldier exclaimed.
"Worth a farthing?" the beggar asked.
"More, but I have nothing to give you," the soldier replied. Now the soldier had but a single biscuit in his pocket and he was hungrier than the devil. "I've a biscuit you can share with me," he said reaching for the bit of food. The soldier held out his last, dried biscuit and broke it in two, but it didn't seem right to give the old boy less than the others. So he gave him both halves. The beggar smiled.
"You're a good man and deserve more luck than two be on your last biscuit. Here, take my cards and may they never loose for you," the beggar said with a smile. "And take this sack also. An ugly thing but remarkable. Call a bird in or a beast or anything you like, and it will be there in a twinkle."
The soldier graciously took the cards and the sack and traveled a hop, a skip, a whistle, a light heart, and an empty sack through a cold night and a warm day until he came to a river. He called to a flock of geese wading on the water.
"Geese! Get in my sack!" Four geese traveled to the shore and flew into his sack. A remarkable thing! He tied the sack shut and went again on his way to an inn near town. Inside, the soldier set down his sack and rested in a chair by the door. The landlord poured a cup of ale and brought it to the weary soldier.
"That's a nice whistle," the landlord commented.
"I got it off of a poor soul down on his luck," the soldier replied, taking the cup of ale to soothe his voice.
"Home from the war are you?" the landlord asked, pulling up a chair.
"Aye."
"And with a sack full of spoils?" inquired the man.
"No," laughed the soldier. "This is four geese I trapped the other day. I'd like one for my supper. If you'll cook it for me and give me a bed, I'll let you have the other three."
The landlord's eyes lit with joy. "I can always use a nice bird," he said taking the sack with him into the kitchen.
"Make sure you bring back the sack!" called the soldier, sitting back in his chair.
The landlord roasted the goose in cloven honey and brought it out with a bottle of his best wine. The soldier ate it all and sucked the bones and drank the wine, and danced 'till the morning until he plopped into bed.
Three days later he awoke and opened the window, and there on the hill stood a palace. The landlord entered the soldier's room with a tray of breakfast pastries.
"Whose palace is that?" asked the soldier, sitting down with a pastry. "And why are the windows all smashed?"
"That was the Czar's palace. It was once a place of waltzes, chandeliers, and fabulous parties. Now, the devils have it for their card games." The soldier appeared interested.
"Devils?"
"Aye, devils!" the landlord replied. "Every night they come and scream and shout and play their cards. People won't go round because they're so devilish."
"It's a nice palace. Someone should go and drive them out," the soldier replied, taking a second look.
"An army tried. And in the morning there was nothing left but shadows, and that's the truth!" the landlord said, seeming now to be spooked.
"I think I'll take a closer look," the soldier said with half a smile, throwing his sack over his shoulder.
"That's folly!" cried the landlord.
Folly or not, the soldier entered the palace, sack on his shoulder, whistle on his lips, cards in his hands. Inside it was very quiet, as if the walls were holding their breath... and waiting. The soldier waited and waited and waited until a leering clock chimed midnight. The soldier caught sight of shadows from the beams, but the flame from his candle whisked out before he could truly determine what the shadows were. He struck a match and gathered around the table where he sat were devils, as many as twenty he believed. With their devilish grins, they hissed at him. Continuing his cheery whistle, he lit the lantern above him, flooding the whole room with light.
"That's a nice whistle, I'd like to have it!" hissed one of the devils.
"Hello," said the soldier. "I hear you like a game of cards. What shall we play for?"
"His soul!" the devils all nodded in agreement.
"Fair enough," said the soldier, "but what will you stake?"
"Forty barrels of gold."
"Very good," said the soldier. And with that they settled down to business. The soldier dealt the cards and won. And won again. The devils got into a kind of fume only devils can get in. The soldier won every game no matter how the devils had cheated.
By morning, the forty barrels of gold were staked behind the chair of the soldier.
"Well, my friends, I suppose we'd better call it a day," smiled the soldier triumphantly.
"No we will not!" hissed the devils. "It's time for breakfast and you are the meal!"
"Oh really?" inquired the soldier. "Let's see who eats whom!"
With those words the soldier brought forward the sack and threw it on the table. Opening the sack he said, "Do you know what this is?"
"A sack..." replied the devils.
"Then by the grace of God, get in it!" he screamed. The devils immediately flew into the sack. The soldier abused the devils by throwing them against the walls of the castle and dropping them from high balconies. "Do you want more?" he finally asked.
"No! No!" wailed the devils.
"Will that be the end to your mischief in these parts?" demanded the soldier. The soldier let all of the devils go except for one. He made that devil promise to serve him faithfully in return for his freedom. He then cut off the devil's foot to remind the creature of his promise. The devils rushed to Hell and slammed the door for fear of being followed by the soldier and his sack.
The soldier was now the toast of the town and the star of the Czar. He married the Czar's daughter and they had a son. Life smiled on the soldier until one day his son fell ill from a fever.
They called for doctors and quacks and apothecaries. No one could seem to save the boy. Soon those gray beards were replaced by priests, and eventually a man in black came to measure for a coffin.
"What shall we do husband?" asked the soldier's wife fretfully.
"It's all for the devil," replied the soldier with a heavy and grieving sigh. Suddenly he remembered his own devil. He called the devil forth and said: "If you can cure my son I will give you your foot back."
The devil produced a magic glass goblet. He had the soldier look into the side of goblet.
"What do you see?" asked the devil.
"I see a small creature dressed in black," responded the soldier.
"That is Death, Excellency," said the devil. "Where is he standing?"
"At my son's feet," replied the soldier.
"Good, then your son will recover. Sprinkle some of the water from the glass on him and he will soon be well. When Death comes to the head is when you must worry."
The soldier did as the devil bade, and the boy recovered almost immediately.
"You are a marvel!" the soldier exclaimed.
"May I have my foot back then?"
"Certainly," said the soldier.
"Anything else, sir?"
"Give me that glass and I will release you from your promise."
The devil agreed. The soldier set up in his trade as miracle man. He traveled the world with his magic glass. Whenever he met a sick man he would hold up the glass. If Death was at the foot of the bed, he sprinkled water on him and he was cured. If Death was at the head, the soldier shook his head and people paid him anyway. But as often as not, he left with everyone happy and praising him. Everything went along well until one day the soldier was summoned to the Czar's bedside.
The soldier arrived as quickly as possible but through his glass he saw that Death stood at the head of the bed.
"I've come to late..." he muttered.
The soldier's wife, the Czar's own daughter replied sharply: "You have saved the poor and destitute and you will not save your own king, my father?"
"I can not stop Death," the soldier solemnly replied, looking into his wife's mournful face. "But if Death needs a new friend, he should take me instead."
The soldier stepped to the Czar's bedside and peered once more at the black shrouded creature. "Take me and spare the Czar."
The shrouded figure of Death turned and disappeared. The soldier dipped his fingers into the glass and sprinkled the Czar with its magic waters. The Czar sat up, instantly healed, exclaiming Praise Be! The soldier turned and headed for the door.
Many days later the soldier fell ill and lay dying. He pulled the glass from under the covers to have one last look at Death, who was standing by his head. Carefully the soldier pulled out another object from under the covers.
"Do you know what this is, Death?" asked the soldier weakly.
"A sack..." the creature replied in a whisper.
"Well, if it's a sack, then get in it!" said the soldier. The creature was instantly was drawn into the bag. Death was a prisoner. The soldier was instantly cured.
He took the bag and traveled until he found the thickest forest, and there he climbed the highest tree. He hung Death on the furthest bough, and promptly fell off. There is nothing like the absence of Death to cushion the fall. Nothing died. There were wars where no one died. The soldier celebrated this new found fame by sitting in his palace whistling his ruby whistle. Until one day he looked outside his window to see a horrible sight.
The courtyard was full of poor souls waiting for Death to collect them. The soldier could not bear their sorrow. So he traveled again to the forest and climbed the tree; he brought down the sack. Before he released Death, the soldier said: "I have lead you a merry dance. Now it is time that you have me and set the world right."
With fearful eyes Death flew out of the sack and disappeared. Death was so afraid of the soldier and his sack that he never claimed him. The soldier watched as one by one all of his family and friends passed on, but still Death did not come for him. The soldier lived on until he could stand it no more.
He traveled to Hell where he asked the devils to take him. The devils recognized the soldier and closed the door in fear. The soldier then asked for 200 souls that the devils no longer had use for and a map to Heaven. He took the souls to Heaven where he met an angel at the gate. The angel said he would allow the souls in, to claim God's forgiveness, but the soldier must remain outside. The solider gave his sack to one of the souls. He bid the soul that once inside, he should call him into the sack. The souls entered the gates and the soldier waited and waited.
But you see, souls have no memory in Heaven. Souls forget. He had been inches from paradise and he could not enter. At long last the soldier started back to earth, and for all I know he wanders still.