The Simple Hero

WHILE RIDING IN THE MERCHANT’S WAGON, Steven thought of a story he should tell in the evening. But his thoughts were constantly interrupted by another town coming into view or by the merchant’s desire for talkative company.

“We had another brother once,” said the merchant. “In fact, it was not until we lost him that my brother and I realized how important we all were to each other. He was a bit simple, mind you, but a good lad and I fear he took the brunt of both my brother’s and my tricks.”

“What happened to him,” Steven asked, suddenly interested.

“I wish I knew,” said the merchant. “Went off to seek his fortune. Probably drowned in the flooding of the castle in the hills. He wouldn’t have known how to get home even from there. Now there’s a story that needs telling.”

“Sometimes simple fools are the greatest teachers,” Steven replied absently. The merchant looked at him strangely.

And so, when they entered the next village and made arrangements for the night, they ate well and lazed beside the fire. The merchant announced to those wayfarers who were in the common room that his friend was about to pay a story-debt and they were all invited to listen. Steven stood beside the fire in his tall, feathered hat and stretched out his arm with the staff. The room went suddenly still.

ONCE UPON A TIME, not so long ago, and certainly not so far you couldn’t walk there from here, there lived a poor fisherman with his two sons, Samson and Simon. Now Samson was a hard worker and obeyed his father in everything he was told to do. He carted fish to market and returned with coins; he mended nets; he rowed the boat while his father fished. He even cooked meals for the three men and saw to it that his brother had clothes and food.

Simon, on the other hand was simple. In fact, he was so stupid that he could not follow the simplest instructions. His father sent him on an errand to the village and he got lost. It took Samson half the day to find him sitting near the road weeping because he didn’t know which way was home.

Finally, the fisherman said to his simple son, “Simon, I can no longer support you here. You cannot do the simplest work. Here are ten silver coins. Go seek your fortune in the world.”

Simon gladly took his father’s money and set off into the world with a light heart. When he was gone, Samson was sad, but he was a good son and helped his father until the day the old man died.

Simon set his foot to the path and wandered away from home to seek his fortune.

He no longer worried about the way to get home because he knew he would never return. He wandered freely and joyfully and his footsteps took him far away into another land. In this land strange beasts roamed and as was bound to happen one strayed across the path on which Simon was gleefully whistling as he walked.

This beast had the body of a lion, the head of a man and the wings of an eagle. Simon looked at the beast and said, “What kind of strange creature are you?”

“I am a sphinx,” said the beast, “and you shall die on this spot ere you pass by me.”

“That is rude,” said Simon. “I shall pass where I please.” With this Simon made to pass the sphinx, but it reared up on its hind legs and swatted Simon so strongly across the face that Simon fell to the ground. Simon stood and faced the sphinx again. “Both rude and cruel,” said Simon.

“I shall ask you a riddle,” said the sphinx. “If you can answer it, I will let you pass. If you fail, however, I shall kill you and eat you on the spot.”

“Very well,” said Simon. “Ask.”

“The head of kings, the tail of beasts, and when you eat, the cost of feasts. What am I?”

“Well that is silly,” said Simon. “You already told me what you are. You are a beast with the head of a man, the body of a lion, and the wings of an eagle—a sphinx. If you have another name, you haven’t been polite enough to introduce yourself.”

“The answer is not me,” the sphinx said gleefully, rising to pounce on and eat Simon.

“It certainly is,” said Simon. “You asked, ‘What am I?’ I correctly identified you. I win. If I had asked, ‘What am I?’ you would have answered a boy named Simon and I would let you pass, but I am not so stupid as to ask you what I am.”

“The question,” explained the sphinx, “was what has the head of kings, the tail of beasts and is the cost of feasts. You cannot say that it is me.”

“Do you not have the tail of a beast?” asked Simon.

“I do,” said the sphinx.

“And is your head not the head of a king, since you rule this road and all who would pass?”

“It is,” said the sphinx.

“And if I answer you correctly, will it not cost you your feast?”

“It will,” said the sphinx.

“You see, if you want to stump a clever lad like me you should not be so obvious as to ask what you are,” Simon concluded.

The sphinx paced backward and forward. It advanced on Simon and then it retreated. It muttered to itself about not being the riddle, but was bound not to kill if the answer was correct. But it could not let him pass if it wasn’t the real answer. Simon, growing tired of this impasse finally snatched up a rock and smashed the beast in the head, killing it. Simon plucked a feather from the eagle-wings of the sphinx and stuck it in his hat. Feeling proud of himself and seeing no reason to waste them, he plucked more feathers from the wings to decorate his hat. Then he put the dead beast on his shoulders and continued on his way.