By A.S. Peterson
Not so very long ago a stonemason lived in a small wooden house near the mountain. He was a quiet man and did not often speak. Some of the people in the nearby towns and villages were frightened of him because he was so quiet and so strong.
“Of course he is quiet and strong,” some would say. “He must be so to heave the great weight of stone and who would want to speak with such work at hand?”
It was well that people said such things because they were true. Stonemasonry is difficult and the stonemason loved his work and labored from sunrise to sunset each day.
The people said other things that were true as well. Things like, “The stonemason’s work is the best in the land,” or “See what beautiful things he has made of the mountain stones.”
No one knew how old the stonemason was or where he came from and no one could recall a time when he hadn’t lived in the small wooden house near the mountain. They also didn’t know that he was lonely.
One winter a great storm came down from the mountain and covered the towns and villages in snow. The snow was so heavy and the wind so terrible that the chimney in the house of a poor widow collapsed. The widow had no family to go to for help and she feared that she would die the next evening when night fell because she couldn’t build a fire to keep her warm.
Though she had no money she went to the stonemason to plead with him for help. The stonemason was a kind man and he told the widow that he would repair her chimney.
“But I have no money to pay you,” she said.
The stonemason smiled and told her that she did not need to pay him.
That day he went to the village to repair the widow’s chimney and when he finished, her chimney was even better than it had been when it was new. The widow cried and fell at his feet and thanked him for saving her life.
That night the winds and the snow came again and the widow’s house was warm.
The widow was so pleased with the stonemason’s work and his kindness that she told everyone in the village what he had done. For many days afterward, the villagers came to her house to cross their arms and nod their heads and admire the beauty and craftsmanship of the repaired chimney.
Some of the people said to the widow, “You must find a way to repay the stonemason. What he has given you for free is of great value.”
The widow thought about this for a long time and decided that it was true. She did not have any money or valuable possessions but when the winter was over and spring came, she had a verdant garden. So she labored for a day and a night cooking a worthy meal for the stonemason. She boiled cabbages, she sliced tomatoes, she stewed potatoes, she canned okra and pickled sweet onions and made many special foods that are only known in that small village near the mountain.
She borrowed a wagon from her neighbor and delivered the meal to the stonemason’s wooden house.
When the stonemason came out to greet her, she was overcome with nervousness. She looked at the ground near her feet as she told him what she had brought and why. Because she was too ashamed to look at him, she did not see that he was happy she had come.
They went inside and the poor widow served the stonemason the meal she had made. While she attended him she became more and more comfortable and began to look at his face when she thought he would not see her. She noticed that besides being strong, and quiet, and very kind (as she had already learned), that he was also handsome. This made the widow ashamed again and she kept her eyes to her feet whenever she thought of it.
The stonemason was so large that he ate everything except for a few of the sliced tomatoes, which he set aside for breakfast the next morning. When he was done the stonemason thanked the widow and wished her a good day.
That night the stonemason was more lonely that he had ever been.
The next day the widow tended her garden and cleaned her house but all she could think of was the stonemason. She had forgotten how happy it made her to prepare food and see it eaten and she decided that she would prepare him another meal.
The next day she arrived at the stonemason’s house once more with the new meal. This time she was not ashamed and did not look at her feet. She saw that the stonemason was happy that she had come. That day they talked of many things and they laughed more than either of them had in many years.
When the widow left that evening, the stonemason thought to himself that if she came to him again, he would ask permission to court her.
And the widow thought to herself that if she brought him one more meal, perhaps there was a chance he would ask for her hand.
She did come to him again and he did ask permission to court her. The widow and the stonemason were married on midsummer’s day.
Many of the people in the towns and villages wondered about their marriage. It was strange to them because no one knew very much about the poor widow except that her husband had died long ago and no one knew anything at all about the stonemason except that he made beautiful things from the stones of the mountain.
The widow and the stonemason did not worry about what people said because they lived near the mountain where it was quiet and far apart from the towns and villages. The stonemason continued to work from sunrise to sunset each day. He quarried stone and built beautiful fountains, and walls, and chimneys for the people. The widow planted a garden near the stonemason’s wooden house and from its produce she made many lovely meals. Though each of their lives continued much as they had before, they were no longer lonely.
The next spring, they had a son. He was strong like the stonemason but because he was a baby he was not very quiet. The birth was difficult for the widow, who was older than most women who give birth to a child, and as the baby boy grew she was often sick and could not leave her bed.
This filled the stonemason with sadness. On the days when his wife was sick and could not leave the bed, he did not go to the mountain to work the stone. He attended her bedside and brought her whatever she wished and he cared for his son so that she could rest.
One day while his wife was sick, she called to him.
“I am cold to my bones. Will you bring me another blanket, my husband?”
The stonemason brought her the thickest blanket in the house and covered her in it and kissed her forehead. Before he rose from her side he felt something that he had never noticed before. Cold winter air was creeping through the floorboards of his old wooden house. Because he was so large and so strong, it was easy for him to ignore the cold and wait for spring. But his wife was not large, and was not strong, in fact she was growing weaker every day.
When he thought of this, he became angry with himself. His son was even smaller and weaker than his wife (though he was still very strong for a baby), would the winter cold creep in to make him sick as well?
That night the stonemason made a promise to his wife and his son. He told them that he would no longer make chimneys, and walls, and fountains, and stonework for the people of the villages. He would still work from sunrise to sunset each day but his only labor would be to build a new house. But instead of a wooden house through whose cracks the winter cold could creep to weaken them, he promised to build a great house of stone that would keep them safe and warm.
The stonemason’s wife smiled and thanked him and told him that it was not necessary. But he knew that it was.
The next day, he went to the mountain. The work of a stonemason is slow and methodical and cannot be hurried. With his pickaxe he hewed a great block of stone from the roots of the earth. With ropes and levers and his strength, he heaved the stone onto his back and carried it down the mountain.
The stonemason intended to build a house that would stand for a thousand years. But because the work is so hard and so slow, at the end of the first day he had only laid one stone into its place.
Day after day, he rose and went to the mountain and each day he returned with a single hewn stone. He laid them each beside the other, day after day, season after season.
The people of the village were confounded. They didn’t understand why the stonemason would no longer build their chimneys and walls and fountains and they came out to see what had become of him. For even though he frightened some of them, the people loved his work and missed his strength and his quietness and his kindness.
The people gathered around the site of the stonemason’s new house and they crossed their arms and they nodded their heads and admired the great craftsmanship and beauty they saw.
A few of the people were rude and shouted things at him as he worked.
“Why don’t you come to the village to build our chimneys and walls and fountains? Isn’t that what is required of a stonemason?”
But the wise people of the villages quieted these few, telling them, “Do not aggrieve him. Can’t you see that he is building a great work?”
No matter what the people said, the stonemason did not look up from his labor. Each day he went to the mountain and each day he returned with a new stone to place.
While the stonemason built the house, his wife grew weaker. When winter came again the new house was still far from complete and the stonemason’s heart was filled with worry for his wife and son. He kept the fire burning in the hearth day and night. He placed stones on the fire and when they were red with heat he removed them with a metal tong and placed them near his wife’s bed. The stones kept her warm and kept the winter cold from creeping in.
But she grew weaker still and at midnight on the last day of winter, she died.
The next morning the stonemason carried her to the mountain and buried her among the budding trees.
His grief was heavy but because his love for his son was strong he continued to build the new house. Each day at sunrise he went to the mountain to work. He carried his son with him in a basket and let him play beside the quarry as he worked. Each night he returned with a single stone and put it into its place.
Because of his love for his son, the stonemason was even more determined to build a great house. He knew that he could build a house so strong and so solid that the winter cold could never creep within its walls but in his heart he hoped to build a house so strong that not even death could creep within it and his son would be safe forever.
Such a house is built of many stones.
For years the stonemason continued his work and as his son grew, the stonemason taught him his craft so that he would have a skill. Though the boy was smart, he did not enjoy the work of stone like his father did. He learned only what was required and never took pleasure in what he created. This made the stonemason sad but he did not know what to do about it.
Years went by as the stonemason worked to complete the house. It was the largest building that the people of the towns and villages had ever seen. It rose above the trees and towered so high that it was itself like a mountain. It had tall spires, and a great hall, and rooms enough to house his son and his son’s sons, and their sons for a hundred generations.
It was not only large it was also beautiful. The stonemason had honed his craft during his years of patient work and the house was adorned with fluted columns and wistful statues and intricate rosettes and flourishes. Great fountains, fed by secret mountain streams, filled the courtyards. There was nothing like it in all the land near the mountain.
The people came from all around to see the stonemason’s house and marvel at it. They brought their children and pointed to the house said, “Remember this, there is nothing like it in all of memory.”
The stonemason’s son though, did not like to work every day from sunrise to sunset. He often complained about the work and though his father provided him with food and shelter and everything he needed, he dreamed of the day when he could do as he wished and would not have to listen to his father anymore. He did not understand why his father wanted to build such a house.
When the stonemason’s son was nearly grown to manhood, the stonemason came down from the mountain with a tiny stone and laid it in its place.
The stonemason turned to his son and said, “It is finished.”
That night the stonemason died in his sleep even though he was stronger in his age than he had been in his youth.
At sunrise the stonemason’s son found his father and went to the village and told the people of his father’s death. They cried out in grief for the fame of the stonemason had spread across the land and they had prospered from his renown.
The people came to the house and helped the stonemason’s son bury his father. When the burial was complete they stood outside the house and marveled at its craftsmanship. But the stonemason’s son became irritated at them and he ordered all the people away.
After the stonemason’s death his son did whatever he wished. He no longer got up at sunrise and he no longer worked until sunset. He wandered the halls of the house and scoffed at his father’s folly.
After a month, the stonemason’s son had eaten all of the food and drunk all the wine and he became angry that his father had not stored more for him to live on. He went to the villages and towns and called out to the people from the streets.
“I am the stonemason’s son. My father is dead and I am hungry.”
Some people crossed their arms and shook their heads and grumbled about the boy. But many others took pity on him and brought food out because they honored his father who had been so kind and quiet and strong.
The stonemason’s son took the food and ate it in the street and threw what he did not like into the gutter. Each day he went to a different town and called out to the people from the streets. And each day fewer and fewer people took pity on him.
When people from far away places heard of the stonemason’s great house and came to admire it, the boy sent them away saying, “Did I invite you here? Go away.”
But one day the stonemason’s son went to the streets to call out for food and no one at all took pity on him. He cursed the town and went away hungry.
He went to other towns and villages but no matter where he went, no one would have pity on him and he cursed each of them saying, “My father made your fountains, and walls, and chimneys and this is how you repay him? Though I am his son and know the secrets of his craft, I will never mend what he has made for you nor bring you anything of stone from the mountain.”
And so he went back to his father’s house and was hungry and angry.
When he had not eaten for many days, a stranger from a far away land came to admire his father’s house. The boy threw open the window and intended to shout at the stranger and send him away but he had an idea.
He told the stranger that the price for looking on the great house was a copper coin. Because the stranger had travelled far and was overcome by the beauty and wonder of the stonemason’s house, he withdrew a coin from his pouch and laid it upon the doorstep.
From then on, anytime travelers came to admire his father’s house, the stonemason’s son charged them a coin. Because the stonemason’s fame had spread across the land he had enough coins to purchase food and wine and did not go hungry.
Some people of the village near the mountain remembered the kindness and quietness and strength of the stonemason and knew that he would never require money for another to look upon his work. These people went out to the stonemason’s house and cried to his son, “You dishonor your father and your father’s house!”
The boy was angry when he heard this and he broke off a piece of stone from the house and threw it at the people.
When winter came, few people travelled the land and even fewer of those came to admire the stonemason’s house. The stonemason’s son once more became hungry.
He went into the village and shouted out to the people, “I am the stonemason’s son and will repair your chimneys and walls and fountains if only you will feed me.”
But the people crossed their arms and shook their heads and remained silent because they had learned to repair their own stonework, though their craft was crude and without beauty.
None of the people of the villages and towns would take pity on the stonemason’s son and he returned to his father’s house in anger.
The next day a stranger came to marvel at the house and the stonemason’s son was anxious to take his copper coin. But he knew that a single copper coin would not buy enough food to feed him for the winter, so he told the stranger that the price was a silver coin.
Because of the great craftsmanship and beauty of his father’s house, the stranger agreed. When the people of the village learned what the stonemason’s son had done they were very angry. Many came out and stood near the house and shouted at the boy.
“You dishonor your father and your father’s house!”
The stonemason’s son was filled with hatred and he broke off another piece of his father’s house and threw it at them. But they continued to cry out and he broke off another piece and threw it also. After he had thrown many stones, the people went away.
When spring came, people travelled the land more frequently. Many came to marvel at the great house and the stonemason’s son was greedy and he demanded a silver coin from each of them.
This caused the people who remembered his father’s kindness much grief. They came each day to his window and cried out against him. And each day he broke off a piece of his father’s house and threw it at them.
Because the fame of his father’s work had spread across the land, the boy became rich with silver coins. But though the house required many repairs from the stones he had broken off in anger, he did not work to repair them. Instead, he spent the coins on expensive food and foreign wines and paid people of poor repute to come to his father’s house and drink with him.
These people whispered in his ear and slipped their hands into his pockets and advised him that he should demand a gold coin for each traveler come to see the marvels of his father’s house. Although the stonemason’s son already had enough money to buy food for many winters, he was greedy and did as they told him.
Only the richest of travelers could afford to pay a gold coin but because of the great beauty and craftsmanship of the house, many agreed and he grew even richer on their gold. Whenever a poor traveler came to see his father’s work, he broke off a piece of stone and threw it at them saying, “Go away! You are not worthy to look on my father’s house?”
All these things continued to anger the people of the village and they came every day to cry out against him. Each day he broke off pieces of the house and hurled them in hatred.
That winter a great storm came down from the mountain and because the stonemason’s son had broken off so many pieces of the house, the cold crept in and he was often sick. The people of poor repute continued to eat his food and drink his expensive wine but they did not comfort him in his sickness.
Because he was sick and could not do so himself, he ordered those in the house to throw stones at the people who cried against him. They used his father’s hammer and his father’s pickaxe to break great pieces of stone from the house and they laughed as they hurled them at anyone who came near.
When spring came, the infamy of the stonemason’s son had spread across the land. People in every town and village knew of the stonemason’s broken and ruined house and they knew of his son who threw stones at anyone that came near.
No one at all came to pay a golden coin and marvel at the once great house. But the stonemason’s son was glad because the people left him alone. He had become rich on his father’s renown and did not concern himself with the next year’s winter.
When autumn came, his wealth had dwindled and all the foolish people of his house had gone away. He was alone and began to worry. So he went into the village and cried out that he would no longer charge a golden coin for people to marvel at his father’s house. Instead he would once more charge only a silver coin.
But the people of the village ignored his cries and no one went to marvel at his father’s work.
He was angry with the people but he also feared the winter and so he went again to the village and cried out that he would charge only a copper.
Still, no one came.
The stonemason’s son went once more to the village and cried out.
“Only bring me food for the winter and you may come and see my father’s house.”
But the people crossed their arms and shook their heads and no one took pity on him.
The boy cursed the village and spent the last of his coins to buy what food he could.
That winter, another great storm came down from the mountain. The snow fell so heavily and the wind blew so terribly that many houses of the village collapsed and many villagers died of cold because there was no stonemason to repair their homes.
But though the stonemason’s once great house was pierced with holes and ragged with neglect, it held beneath the great weight of the fallen snow and was stalwart in the gale of mighty winter winds.
The stonemason’s son tried to keep warm when the winter cold crept in but was often sick and before winter’s end he had eaten all of the food and was near death with hunger. He scoured his father’s house for something to eat but found nothing and his heart was full of hatred for the people of the village.
One night, in a fever of sickness, the stonemason’s son was so hungry that he thought he could eat even a stone. He crawled from his bed and seized a stone in the wall intending to eat it. But such was his father’s craft that the stone held fast. The boy took up his father’s pickaxe and swung it upon the stone. He cursed his father for building such a house and swung the axe at the stone until it was loosened in the wall.
Then, trembling with sickness and hunger, he plucked the stone from the wall to eat it. When he put it to his mouth the once great house shuddered beneath the heavy snow and quaked in the howling winter wind and collapsed with a terrible sound that people heard for miles around.
The trembling of the stonemason’s house caused the snow of the mountain to break loose and rush down the mountainside. The avalanche buried the stonemason’s son and the house and everything in it.
The next day, because of the tremendous sound of the collapsing house and the avalanche, people came from all the nearby villages and towns to see what had happened. Many people were glad that the stonemason’s son was dead and would bother them no more. Many recalled his unkindness and his greed and his laziness.
Some remembered how great and wonderful the stonemason’s house had been and they looked on its ruin and were sad that it was destroyed.
But only a very few remembered the stonemason, and his great strength, and his quietness, and his kindness.
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