"Return to your people with a light heart," urged the Lord, "and take with you the amulet, for you have earned it. Take with you too the tale of your adventures here, for now you have tasted failure and success alike you can be sure this pattern will match much of your future life. And take your conflicts, for there never will be an end, in this life, to the tension between the part of you which would have no change, and that which must respond to the changing demands of the world. One part is Being, the other Becoming, and between your Loves and your Duties there will always be fine Drama!"
"I would gladly do as you bid," replied the Fool, "yet I am not sure my clumsy tongue can bear the message you intend. I came to this spot to meet the Devil himself, and to engage him in whatever arena fate saw fit. Now that this business is complete it seems there is no triumph or defeat, no devil and no hero either. I left my home a Fool in dirty rags, now I return in gladder garb. Yet little else has changed. I am quite satisfied for this journey, in itself, to be my reward. But if I am asked to tell of what befell me here, I can but show this amulet of gold and speak quite candidly of how I came by it. I cannot rightly say I came by any honours through talent or virtue, whether brought to this affair or learned. Though I have certainly learned some things about myself, what truth have I to bring back to the others in my world?"
"You speak with fine humility," rejoined the Lord. "By your example you eloquently express what I would have you say.
I bid you tell them that to each and every one is given the key to the Gates of Heaven. The same key opens the Doors of Hell. Heaven and Hell alike bubble from the cauldron of your mind..."
The scene shimmered as if viewed through a haze of heat, and the face of the Lord took on a younger aspect which reminded the Fool of someone he had met before. The face before him was still speaking, slowly, as all around melted and reformed. "Communication..." said this voice, as the twinkling eyes became those of the Magician, "is the key..." and the Fool was back within the tavern, sitting by the fire, "to a creative future..."
The Fool awoke, with a start. He was lying in the meadow he knew so well. All was as before he had drifted asleep, except his bitten leg seemed less painful. He tested it gingerly, and found he could now walk.
Adventure beckoned, so he set off with his customary light heart, and as he limped along the sights and sounds of the nearby market town were carried to him by the perfumed breeze of a perfect summer's day.