Once upon a time, in a high stone castle overlooking the misty mountains of Switzerland, there lived an old count. The count was a proud man who cared a great deal about power and grand titles. He had only one son, a quiet boy named Swiss. But to the count’s great disappointment, Swiss was not clever with swords or with strategy. Whatever his father tried to teach him, nothing seemed to stay in the boy’s head.
At last the count lost patience.
“Hark you, my son!” the old man boomed, stamping his foot. “Try as I may, I can get nothing into your head. You must leave this castle. I shall send you to a celebrated master in a distant town, and we shall see what he can make of you.”
The Three Masters
Swiss was sent away for a whole year. When he returned, his father sat upon his high chair and asked, “Now then, my son. What have you learned?”
Swiss smiled gently. “Father, I have learned what the dogs say when they bark.”
“Lord have mercy upon us!” cried the count, throwing his hands into the air. “Is that all? A whole year, for dog barks? I shall send you to another town, and another master!”
Another year passed. When Swiss returned, his father asked again, “My son. What have you learned this time?”
“Father,” Swiss replied softly, “I have learned what the birds say in the trees.”
The count flew into a rage, and his face turned quite red. “Oh, you foolish, ruined boy! You waste precious years and bring shame upon my house. I shall send you to a third master — but hear me well. If you learn nothing this time, I shall no longer be your father.”
A third year passed. When Swiss came home, his father demanded, “What have you learned?”
Swiss answered with a calm smile. “Dear father, this year I have learned what the frogs croak in the marshes.”
At that, the count exploded. He sprang up, called his guards, and roared, “This useless creature is no son of mine. Take him deep into the dark forest and be rid of him!”
The guards led Swiss away into the woods. But when the moment came, they could not bring themselves to harm the gentle boy. Instead they let him go free into the world, and carried back a token taken from a wild deer to show the cruel count as proof.
The Haunted Tower
Swiss wandered alone for many miles until he came to a massive stone fortress. He knocked at the heavy wooden gates and asked for a night’s lodging.
“You may stay,” said the lord of the castle, looking at him with pity. “There is the old tower down below. But I warn you — it is at the peril of your life. It is full of wild, enchanted dogs that bark and howl without ceasing. At certain hours a living man must be given to them, or they will tear this castle down about our ears. The whole district lives in terror of them, and nobody can stop them.”
Swiss was entirely without fear. “Only let me go down to the dogs,” he said cheerfully, “and give me a basket of meat. They will do me no harm.”
They gave him the food and watched nervously as he walked into the dark, echoing tower.
Instead of attacking, the wild dogs fell silent the moment Swiss stepped inside. They wagged their tails, trotted up to him, and ate the meat happily from his hands. And then they sat down around him in a circle and began to bark.
To anybody else it would have been nothing but noise. To Swiss, it was a perfectly clear conversation.
The next morning, the villagers gasped as Swiss walked out of the tower safe and unharmed. He bowed to the lord of the castle.
“The dogs have told me their secret in their own language,” he said. “They are under a dark spell, forced to guard a great chest of gold buried beneath the floorboards. They can have no rest until the gold is taken away.”
The lord promised to adopt Swiss as his own son if he could free them. So Swiss went back down into the tower, followed the dogs’ instructions, and dug up the heavy chest of treasure. The moment the gold touched the morning sunlight, the spell broke. The wild dogs vanished away like mist, and the land was free of terror for good.
The Journey to Rome
Some years later, Swiss felt a strange calling in his heart to travel to the holy city of Rome.
On his long journey he passed a quiet, foggy marsh full of hundreds of croaking frogs. Swiss stopped, and listened closely to their chorus. And as he understood their words his eyes widened, and he grew very thoughtful and very quiet, understanding the great weight of what lay ahead of him.
When at last he arrived in Rome, the city was in mourning. The Pope had died, and the cardinals were gathered in the great cathedral, arguing over who should lead them next. At length they agreed upon a sign.
“Whoever is chosen by a miraculous token from above shall be our next Pope.”
And at that very moment, Swiss walked in through the heavy wooden doors to pray.
Two snow-white doves came fluttering down through the stained-glass light. They flew straight to Swiss and landed gently, one upon each shoulder.
The cardinals gasped and fell to their knees. “It is the token from above!” they declared. And they came to the young traveller and asked him, then and there, whether he would take up the holy office.
Swiss hesitated, trembling. “I am only a simple wanderer,” he whispered. “I do not know whether I am worthy.”
But the two white doves leaned close to his face and cooed softly into his ears, telling him not to be afraid, and urging him to say yes.
So Swiss agreed. He was anointed with great ceremony, and so the very prophecy he had heard croaked in the marsh came true. And when the time came for him to sing the grand Latin mass — a thing he had never once been taught — the two doves sat upon his shoulders and whispered every beautiful word of it into his ear.
The Moral of the Story: Never judge wisdom by the usual measures. What looks useless or foolish to everybody else may turn out to be the very gift that leads you to your true purpose. Listening kindly to the world around you can open doors that no sword ever could.