So the men travelled for a day and another, and they came to a rest by a forest. The King commanded the Jester to sing, and cheer the soldiers' tired spirits. So he did, but before long the soldiers, more used to rowdy scenes, chased him off and broke into a bawdy drinking song. So the Jester left the encampment, and wandered, admiring the silence and music of the forest. It was then that he heard a beautiful song, and he saw it came from a Wood Thrush, perched in a tree's branches.

He approached the Wood Thrush, and said, "how do you sing so beautifully? Could you follow me and be my teacher? I am only a jester, but if you be my teacher, I could one day sing at the heart of the City, and I could become the Greatest Singer of All."

"I will not go with you, my place is within these woods," the Wood Thrush replied, "but come back to this clearing tonight. If you come tonight, I will teach you, and you will sing more beautifully than any jester. But if you want to be the Greatest Singer of All, come back three nights, and I will teach you all I know. You will then be able to go to the heart of the City, and be the Greatest Singer of All."

The Jester longed to be able to stay, just three nights, and learn the Wood Thrush's beautiful song. But he could not. He knew that if he did, he would never be able to return to the palace, and the maids would no longer care for his Kitten and his Puppy, and they would allow weeds to overrun the yellow Roses. He would lose the King's grace, and he did respect and love the King, for he had lived and served in the King's court for a long time. So he came back to the clearing that night, but for one night alone, and he sang. That night, he left.


By dawn the next morning, the encampment was no more, and the King and his men moved on. As the days grew longer and more wearisome, and the men approached war, no more could the Jester be easily seen amongst all the soldiers, for his belled hat, and his fool's staff, and his patchwork cape grew grey with dust and soil, and the Jester looked as the other soldiers did. The King, laboured with weary thoughts of war slowly forgot the simple pleasures of the Jester's song, and never again called for him to sing and bring cheer to the camp. Slowly, the Jester too began to forget about his song, and the song of the Wood Thrush, and his dreams of becoming the Greatest Singer of All.

The war came and went, and the King was indeed victorious. The Jester had grown accustomed to the whistling arrrows that flew past everyday, and forgot the gentle flutes that he hoped would one day accompany his song. He grew accustomed to the beating hooves of beast and warrior, and forgot the drumbeats that he used to dream his voice could dance around.

The Puppy and the Kitten, the Jester felt, were no more than distant friends, and he had no great longing for them, but yet he hoped that they were happy and content. And indeed, they were, for the palace maids did all they could to please them while they waited for the return of the Jester. The yellow Roses that were once his friends and audience were all but forgotten by the Jester, while they stood staunchly in the sun awaiting his return. They hoped that their subtle fragrance, weakened by the sun's heat, would still reach the Jester, and remind him of them. But they never knew that far away, the Jester was fast forgetting about flutes and drums, and his Puppy and his Kitten, and the yellow Roses. The Jester had become a soldier, the King's loyal man, and he had forgotten about his song. So two years passed, and at last the King returned once again to his palace. The maids sang and strew his path with silk and roses, and at last, together with the King, so did the Jester return to the court.


"My man, my loyal liege" the King said, seated upon his throne, "you have served me well, and I command you now to no longer jest, but be my Advisor. You have much wisdom, for you know the epics of old, yet have lived through the great battles of our time. You shall sit by my right, and your wisdom shall guide me, and my Kingdom."

The Jester felt little to be an Advisor, but he merely nodded, for he felt little for anything else now. So the King presented him with new robes of ermine, of such regal purple that only the King's own robes surpassed them. His wooden fool's staff was of no more use to him, and he was given a staff of shining silver, that was less dazzling than only the golden staff that the King held. He took off his belled cap, and was given a shining crown of silver, lesser than only the one that rested on the King's head, wrought of purest gold.


The Jester returned once again to his chambers, that the palace maids had kept exactly as he left it. The Puppy and the Kitten came to him, and they looked up, happy at the new glories the Jester had attained.

"You're back, my boy. You have done well," the Kitten said, "and now you are a great man, an Advisor to the King. We will never fear for our tomorrows, and before long, we may even look forward to new chambers, and still the maids and servants will care for us."

"This," the Puppy joined, "we owe to you, and we thank you. Always remember that we love you, my boy."

The Puppy and Kitten were happy to see the Jester once again, but he merely smiled, and lightly touched their soft heads. They were happy and content, and the Jester felt no more than just a passing, spiritless smile cross his face. He walked on.

The yellow Roses had been waiting for a long time now, since they heard the same hooves that once bore the Jester away again return. But he walked on, missing them for they no longer looked like the bright roses that he had left behind. They had stood long in the sun, and their yellows had long been tinged a parched brown. Still they bent their dry stalks to the Jester's gait as he approached, and waited for his song to once again be heard.

"Will you not sing for us?" the yellow Roses asked, with gentle expectancy, "your song will hearten us, and turn our petals yellow again." They turned their blossoms towards him, and waited.


The Jester looked hard at the yellow Roses, and saw only dried stalks with weak blossoms. Yet their hearts had not yet been touched, and they still bloomed bright yellow, even if only deep in their blossoms, where even the sun's heat could not reach. He saw them, at last, for the yellow Roses that he had left behind. It reminded him of his forgotten song, but it was lost from him, and the memory was but mist over a summer's pond, gone with the slightest breath of wind. The Jester felt a twinge in his heart, a mandolin string pulled and tightened, but before it was plucked and could sing, it snapped, and was lost to the Jester.

"You are all beautiful yellow Roses," he said, "but I will soon leave these chambers for new ones, and someone else will come here to stay. Your colours will brighten his days, and he shall care for you, not let the sun parch your petals, nor let the rain drown your roots. You all are, after all, delicate creatures, but I have done little to care for you, and I have almost forgotten you. Wait no more for my song, for I no longer sing." He looked lost, and for a moment fell silent, but he continued, and finally said, "I am sorry."

The yellow Roses fell silent too, and turned pale. They let bleed their last yellows, and it was fast lost into the ground. Their blossoms turned away from the Jester, and soon they too lost their voices. Indeed, they eventually became beautiful white Roses, shining coldly like moonlight, and distant stars. And away into the night, the Jester went.