The Trials of Aleksander the Lesser

Joshua the Poet

   As Aleksander returned from a brief time of soldiering and broken bread in the evening, a saddened face passed by him. The dark-haired youth, named Joshua, was distraught and had been seeking his golden-haired friend. When Aleksander bade him to breathe and, when ready, speak the young man told the reason for his melancholy flight. For a dreadful rumor had been spread by a spiteful against the well-meaning fellow. And though action had been taken against the hateful lie, the young man was still deeply depressed that the rumor would spread.

   Now, Joshua had a difficult upbringing, for his father died when he was young and his mother could not keep a home. So the boy lived on the streets from city to city. But for his tragic boyhood, he had been blessed by the God of Music, Pheobus Apollo, with a power of words like no other. From his silver tongue spilled the most moving of verses, drawn from the misery of his life. Oft did he sit in green park and write sorrowful lines that could bring even a boulder's stony face to tears. But the lines he wrote of a brighter day and of triumph could fill a warrior's heart with passion enough to bring strength back to his limbs, as if Pallas Athene or warlike Ares had blessed him. 

   And so Aleksander walked about the great hall with the weary poet. The youth slowed his long-legged stride and shared in the grief of his friend. He offered kind words to inspire the sighing author, though never enduring the pains of life that his fellow had felt. After a short while did the poet raise his crestfallen head and agree that Fate could not remain so opposed to his happiness much longer and depart from lean and gentle Aleksander, with a cheerful wave and word of friendship. Aleksander himself left the place feeling far better than the already pleasant day had made him, for in aiding a grieving friend did the youth's head a little higher rise.