The Vigilant Soldier
Based upon the tale told to me by the old Sicilian himself
A gust of wind blew a scrap of paper across the rickety wooden platform of the old railway station. With sad eyes, a young man, dressed finely in a tight, new suit, followed the wafting trash. Pulling his watch from a pocket, he checked the time, sighing sullenly. Taking the litter as an invitation, he followed it out the door, stopping only to drop a bouquet of red and yellow carnations into a wastebasket.
Carrying a broom, an aged janitor swept by the wastebasket. He looked down and frowned at the bundle of flowers lying among old newspapers and discarded food. Rolling up the sleeves of his dingy overalls, he retrieved them.
"Sir," he cried in a thick accent just before the man walked out the door, "won't you be needing these?"
"No. You might as well keep them," called back the young man, shaking his head, almost in tears.
"She didn't show, did she?" asked the old janitor, raising his thick, grey eyebrows. He sat down on a bench, patting the seat next to him. "Come and sit, my boy." Maybe it was the glint in the old man's eyes or maybe just a forlorn want not to be alone, for the distraught young man sat down.
"Look around," spoke the old man, waving his arms, "I've worked here for over forty years since I came to America, and do you know how many men I've seen, like yourself, who wait for a love that never comes?" Beside him, the young man humped down in grief, his chin lowered to his chest.
Sniffing the fragrant bouquet, the old man answered his question, "Too many--so I started a custom of my own. Back in Sicily, we have a story which I tell to gentleman like you, my son."
Closing his eyes, he told his tale.
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In Sicily, long ago when a king ruled over the land, a young soldier loved a
princess. Every day when he marched past the castle, his eyes darted to the
side, hoping to catch even the slightest, most passing glimpse of her. At night,
he mourned every hour spent alone.
One day, as he patrolled, he happened to find her walkign alone through the castle gardens. He instantly poured out the gushing emotions of his heart, swearing he could no longer live without her. Word of this quickly spread throughout the kingdom, infuriating the king when it reached his ears. The soldier was of no nobility, no rank, no great promise-- just a mere soldier who had pledged his life and duty for his kingdom, for his people. The king, caring for the honor of his daughter, called the two before the throne. When they met, it was the daughter who spoke. "Kind sir, I am deeply flattered, but I cannot believe you love me so as your life depends upon it." His stuttering voice flooded with emotion as he spoke, "I promise you, my lady, I speak the truth and swear upon my heart and the Lord it is so." He fell to one knee, bowing his head to her. With but the slightest change in her expression, she replied, "Sir, as a test of your word, I ask of you to spend one hundred days and nights in the garden beneath my window as a test of your love. If you ever leave..." "I know," he swore, staring straight into her eyes. Thus, the soldier was confined to the garden below her window. At the fall of the first night, the princess looked down from her window. Seeing him stare back, she quickly slammed it shut. The days went by; the season changed from summer to autumn. As the leaves fell, so did it seem that the life drained away from the soldier. His skin grew a tight, leathery pale. Chiseled by the elements, he seemed a statue with his gaze fixed forever on that window of his love. Then one night, the princess looked out. She studied her vigilant guardian and for the first time, smiled. Leaving the window open, she blew out a candle. There she slept, dreaming happily as she did for many a night after. Finally came the hundredth day. An hour before the sun would rise and prove his love, the soldier turned away. Never looking back, he left the garden. |
With wild, bleary eyes, the young man stared frantically at the janitor and pleaded, "Why would you tell me that? I didn't need to know that--I didn't need to know..."
Opening his eyes, the old Sicilian, putting a friendly hand on the man's shoulder, said, "Calm, calm. Be patient, for you did not let me finish. There are several endings to the story. Some people say the princess was heartbroken, but eventually married another and lived happily, though always regretting her soldier. Others swear she went mad and threw herself from the window."
"But then, as I believe, the princess went on a frantic search of the kingdom. Finding him, she grabbed her love and held him tight, all the while crying upon his shoulder." The old man, a glint in his eye, smiled at his bereaved friend.
At that moment, a clamorous pounding echoed into the station as a young lady rushed madly in. Her blonde hair hung in disarray; her floral dress haphazardly buttoned. She cried out a name, but needed no answer as she ran towards the young man. Wrapping her arms tightly about him, she buried her head into his shoulder and cried deeply, sorrowfully.
And the old Sicilian, a broom in one hand and the flowers in the other, just stood, smiling.