The Peasants and the King

The King had to find a way to create harmony in his kingdom. He was
tired of all of the violence. Peasants had solved their problems for
too long, with sticks and stones as their weapons and beat each other
senseless over petty little arguments.

His advisors had cautioned him against changes. They felt that he
would not accomplish a great deal with his idea.

"Let them all kill each other!" they cried. "We would then have more
for ourselves, and less mouths to feed!"

"That is not the way," replied the King. "Evictus, you have always
applied violence to your ways, and come home bloody and beaten each
day. Have you ever tried to solve your conflicts with words?"

"Words? Bah! What good are words? Little scribblings on pieces of
paper that have
no meaning!"

"On the contrary," stated the King. "We have always solved the
problems of the
kingdom with our words, haven't we? By simply sitting down together and
discussing
our plans, we have utilized words to accomplish our goals. Our problem
is, the words end up a result of violence on our part, and our goals
are not then met. We must apply the meaning of the words to our
work."

The advisors shook their heads in confusion. "What are you suggesting,
our King?"

"Bring all of the peasants together in the courtyard, and I will
present my plan," said
the King.

The advisors bowed to the will of the King, gathering all of the
peasants into the yard. They were all silent, wondering why he had
called this meeting. It was unusual, for the King had always sent his
henchmen out to do his bidding. They stood quietly, sticks and
stones in their hands, waiting for him to speak.

The King looked out over the sea of faces before him. The children
were dirty, the
old women had no shoes, and the men's faces were battered and bruised,
from endless scuffles over nothing.

"My people, I have come before you today, to present a challenge. Our
laws are not working to benefit us all. Your endless encounters of
fighting and haggling have brought you no wealth. Behind me is a table
with two types of books. I would like you to form a line, and each of
you, man, woman, and child, take one of each book."

The peasants looked at the King in disbelief. "Our King is giving us
something, but for what reason?" they whispered among themselves. The
peasants formed a line, and
took one of each book.

One peasant bravely spoke. "My King, why do you give us these gifts?
For what
purpose?"

"They are not gifts, they are tools of knowledge," the King
replied.

The peasant spoke again. "Tools? Why these are nothing but pieces of
paper with
foreign writing, all stuck together. A tool is made to work with. How
will these help us
in the fields?"

"These books are not for working in the fields, but to work with your
mind. The
writing is not foreign; the words in these books are the same as that
which you speak
every day. These books have names, too. One is called, 'the Bible', and
the other a
'dictionary'. The words in the dictionary are explanations of the
meanings of different
words. The words in the Bible are that of God, and put together to form
meaning."

Now the peasants were really confused. Some were shaking their heads,
others were
flipping through the pages of the books with great interest.

"I would like all of you to lay down your sticks and stones and return
to your homes,
for six days and six nights. Each day, go to the priest or the scholar,
and study these
books together. They will both assist you in answering your questions,
and teaching you
to read. There will be no work in the fields during this time and I
will have none of my
men out on patrol. You will be left alone to learn. As you learn the
meaning of the
words and phrases, use them to change a difficult situation in your
life. You are not
allowed to resort to usage of the sticks and stones." The King paused
for a moment, to
let his words to sink in.

"On the seventh day, you will return here to the courtyard, and tell
us your stories. Be
sure to bring your books back with you." He then turned, and walked
back into his castle.

The persistent peasant again asked a question, this time screaming as
the King was
walking away.

"How will these books help us to fight? How will they make the crops
grow? Tell us,
how!"

The rogue peasant continued to rant. "I don't need these stupid books,
all I need is my sticks and stones to make things happen!" The group
with him all cheered in agreement.
"Come on boys, let's go do some real work!"

The band of dissidents turned on their heels and left the courtyard.
The rest of the
peasants dispersed as well, returning to their respective homes to
enjoy the week that the
King had given them.

The following morning, all was quiet, in and around the kingdom. The
King
marveled at the sound of silence.

"This is good," he thought. "No fighting, no yelling. Everything will
be harmonious
for six days." He leaned back in his chair. "Evictus!" he yelled. His
advisor came
scurrying through the bedchamber doors.

"Yes, my Lord?" answered Evictus.

"Evictus, I want you to saddle a horse, and go out to visit the church
and school, and
see what is happening. Talk to the priest and the scholar, and report
your findings back to
me."

Evictus hurried off, and did as the King requested. He did not return
until late afternoon. The King was having a late lunch in the dining
hall. Evictus approached him
with excitement.

"My Lord, I have done as you asked, and was amazed by what I saw and
heard. The
priest and the scholar have had to ask for assistance from neighboring
villages. There will be two more brothers and one more scholar joining
them tomorrow."

"Why would they need more assistance?" asked the King.

"The peasants have all asked for help at once, and there is not enough
of the priest
and the scholar to attend their needs. They begged I should ask your
forgiveness, for not
consulting you first."

"No need for that. If the peasants are willing to make such an effort,
then, by all
means they should have more help." The King was ecstatic. His plan was
working.

By the fourth day, the King was getting restless. He ordered Evictus
to visit the
church and school again. Evictus reported back to him, but later than
before.

"Where have you been? I have been waiting too long!" cried the
King.

"I am sorry, my Lord, but I was caught up in the learning as well. I
was reading
stories from the Bible to the children."

"You? The one who advised me against this plan?" the King stated
incredulously.

"Yes, my Lord. I am convinced. There may be credence to your plan
after all."

"How so?" he inquired.

"Well, the peasants seem more cordial and happy. They are actually
talking and
laughing as they are learning. I couldn't help but join in, it was such
fun!"

The King was elated. He couldn't wait until the seventh day, to hear
how the books
had changed the peasant's lives.

When the seventh day had finally arrived, the King arose before dawn,
rushing to
dress in his finest robes. Again, he beckoned loudly for Evictus.

"Evictus! Have the peasants arrived yet in the courtyard?"

"Evictus hurried to the window. "Yes, my Lord, but&;#8230;."

"Oh, but what? Is something wrong?" asked the King.

"Take a look, my Lord, do you see something amiss?"

The King peered out the window. He was perplexed. "Are those our
peasants? Look
at all of the glorious colors of clothing! They are carrying gifts too!
This cannot be the
same group of peasants that came before me six days ago!"

The King and Evictus made haste to the stairway, proceeding down as
fast as they
could to the courtyard. As his men were lining up in their usual
stance, he sat down in his
throne. He was so excited he could hardly sit through the sounds of the
horn blower's
musical presentation.

All was quiet. The King cleared his throat, and began to speak. "My
royal subjects,
have you enjoyed your time with the priests and the scholars?" There
was a roar of
enthusiastic agreement among the crowd.

He pulled Evictus down close to him. "Choose one man, one woman, one
girl, one boy, and the rogue peasant to come before me."

Evictus stepped into the crowd and picked out the first four, but had
difficulty finding
the peasant who was requested. "Is the peasant who defied the plan of
the king among you?" he questioned.

The man came forth from the middle of the masses. "I am here, my
Lord."

The four were ushered to the top of the stairway to stand before the
King. All were
dressed in the finest of clothing and scrubbed freshly clean, except
for the rogue peasant,
who looked as if he had been beaten to a pulp, and smelled as
such.

The King motioned to the little girl to come before him. "Do you have
your books
with you my child?" he asked.

"I do, my King." She managed a faint smile.

"Tell me, what have you learned from these books? Have the priests and
the scholars taught you well?"

"Yes, my King. They were very patient with me. When I made mistakes,
they did not
laugh or hit me, as my father did."

The King stared at her in horror. "Your father hit you when you made
mistakes?
How can a man do this to his own flesh and blood?"

She proceeded to explain. "I did not do my father's bidding, as he
asked. Every time
I did something, it was not his way. He would hit me, and tell me that
I must be punished. If I made the effort to do things my way, he would
scoff and call me names. I did not know how to talk to him, and explain
why I did such things." She paused to catch her breath. "These books
have brought wonder and peace into my life, as well as my
Fathers. We have learned how to compromise in our work, and to help
each other. He is now open to new ideas, especially if work gets done
faster. We have both learned to read and write, and now have new words
to help us. I told my father that I loved him, and, for the first time
in my life, he hugged me, and said he loved me too." The little girl
was crying now. "My King, I don't know how to thank you for what you
have done for us. I only hope that my meager offering to you will be
enough." She handed him a small bouquet of flowers, then stepped back
down the stairway.

The King struggled to contain his emotions. He motioned to the boy.
"Young man, step forward please."

The young boy approached the King, and made a graceful bow. His books
were
tucked under his left arm. He spoke with confidence. "My King, how fine
you look
today, your robes bring out your finest features." He awaited the
King's response.

The King was close to speechless. "My son, what have your studies
taught you?"

"I have learned that I was created in God's image, and I am a special
person. My ideas, thoughts, and feelings count as well as any man's. I
have learned to be tolerant of others, as well as respect their ideas
and opinion's. I do not judge harshly as I did before. I have learned
many new words and their meanings, and have applied them correctly to
situations I have been in." He stopped for a moment to shift his books.
"These books are my most prized possessions, and I hope to give them to
my children. I have nothing special to offer you my King, except my
gratitude." The boy then stepped gracefully down the stairway, his head
held high.

The King now had to hide his emotions. He lifted himself from his
chair and turned
his back to the people. He was struggling to contain his tears. "Three
more to go," he
thought to himself. The man and the woman waited for their turns with
eagerness. The
rogue peasant was shifting to and fro, as if he were ready to bolt as
soon as he could find
a way out.

The King returned to his throne, and slowly sat down, awaiting the
next story.

He pointed to the man. "Please come before me sir, and tell me your
story."

The man stepped forward, but not without difficulty. His leg revealed
a harsh limp.
"My, King, I am please to come before you this day, as it is one of the
greatest days in
my long life."

The King looked at him quizzically. "And how did this come to be?" he
asked, with
great interest.

"I have learned that my life still has meaning, even though I am now
very old and
crippled. I am no longer able to be a soldier, or toil long hours in
the field, but I am
useful in other ways. I carry water to the workers, and during their
resting times, tell
them stories of my life. I help to care for the women's children and my
grandchildren. I
am able to ease the burden for the wives, allowing them to complete
their daily chores. I
have learned to read and write, and I am starting a book on my life, to
leave as a reminder to others for the future. Here is my gift to you,
my King." The man handed him a
beautiful piece of paper, with finely penned writing. "It is a poem,
about you my Lord,
and explains what you have done to change my life."

The King held out his hand and accepted the gift. "Thank you, my
friend, I will
cherish this for as long as I shall live." The man limped slowly away,
but his walk was
full of pride.

The King now beckoned the old woman forward. "Please, come forth with
your
story." The woman approached him. Her dress was brightly colored, and
she had a
yellow flower tucked neatly in her long gray hair. Her face reflected
the harshness of her
life. The lines around her eyes were deep, but her smile surpassed the
features of age.

"And what story do you have for me?" asked the King. She licked her
lips, and
cocked her head slightly. "Why, my King, do you not recognize me? I am
your mother's
sister. I was the one who brought you into this world."

He peered at her closely. "Why, so you are! Auntie Liz! But, I thought
you had died.
Where have you been?"

"I have always been in your kingdom my Lord. You have been busy
running your
empire, I am sure you did not have time for an old woman such as I."
She waited, but
received no response. "I am here to present you with a recipe for the
bread you eat at
your table every day. The scholar has taught me how to write the exact
ingredients, so
that the bread will taste the same each time. Your cooks will then be
able to bake it fresh
for you in the kitchens, and will not have to come to me for loaves
each day. This way, I
will be able to make time in my life for other things I wish to do
before I die."

"You are the supplier of the bread? How wonderful! But, why do you
talk of death?"

She continued. "I have lived a long and hard existence. I have had
many children and
grandchildren, as well as three husbands. I have helped my family for
as long as I can
remember. The books you gave me have shown me many glorious places that
I wish to
visit. I do not wish to die without seeing these places and things. My
life has been cut
short, due to ill health from toiling in the fields. I can no longer
work a full day.
These books have helped me to see that I may be able to offer my
knowledge to other
cultures. I would like to give my help to those in need. Living with
barely nothing has
made me appreciate the life God has given me, for there are others who
have less than I.
Grant me permission to leave this kingdom my Lord, for I will be more
useful in other
places. My gift to you will be letters from the places I will travel,
to open your eyes as
you have mine."

This was truly a grand gesture. The King stood up. "You have my
blessing Aunt, to
leave this place and fulfill your dreams." He wished at this moment, he
could do the
same. She turned and walked quickly down the steps. He noticed a
spryness in her that
was not there when she first came to him.

The King's eyes now focused on the last of the chosen. The rogue
peasant was still
shifting nervously on his feet. "This ought to be good," he
mused.

The King held out his hand and waved the peasant forward. "Come on,
man, I haven't
all day. Tell me your story." The man came forward, with fear in his
eyes.

"Where are your books, peasant, did I not ask you to bring them with
you today?"

The peasant hesitated. "I did not attend the church and the school, my
Lord, for there
were fields to be planted and plowed."

"I gave strict orders that all people were to take six days to attend
these meetings and not to worry about the fields. Why did you defy
me?"

"My friends and I do not need books to teach us. We have no use for
fancy words
and flowery writing. What will reading and writing do for us? We know
no place else
but this kingdom. It has been our only home, and we do not feel the
need to travel and see
new places. We know all we need to know to live in this kingdom."

The King then became furious. "All of the other people have made an
effort to learn
and make a difference in their lives. You have not. Therefore, I ask
that you and your friends leave this kingdom, since you choose not to
open your hearts and your minds to
ideas other than your own."

"Are you not doing the same, my King? Trying to force your ideas on
us? Why
should we change for your sake?"

The King just looked at him. "I have given you more that any man could
offer. I have
put the power of knowledge in your hands, to do with as you see fit,
and you have chosen
not to use it. That is your choice, and you must live with it!"

The peasant turned on his heels. "You will not see the last of me,
King. You will rue
the day that you turned us away!" The man and his friends stormed out
of the courtyard,
the other peasants hailing the King's decision.

"Well, my people, we will now put our knowledge to good use. I have a
story to tell
also about what I have learned." The King watched the people express
their wonder.

Now they moved closer. Was this true? Did their King also have a
story? Did he
learn from the priests and scholars? He must have, for, without
knowledge, he would not
be King!

He took a deep breath, and began. "I was born to this position, the
son of the King
before me, and trained by him in his ways, which were strict, and knew
no change. I was
never allowed to express my thoughts and views on any matters of the
kingdom, or
suggest any sort of new approach to better the lives of the people. My
father was not
open to new ideas, and did not feel the need to give people hope for
that which they were
not educated and born to receive. His position in life was one of
wealth and royalty, and he believed himself superior to the lower
citizens in life." He stopped to collect his thoughts. "My father could
not read or write, for his mind, at birth, was defective and he could
not produce the words in the correct form. His advisors handled the
affairs of the
kingdom for him, writing all of the laws, and issuing the orders to the
armies. He never
made an effort to learn, as he felt it was beneath him to admit his
shortcomings to
anyone. I am not my father's son in this respect, as I have grasped the
tasks of reading and writing, and do not depend on other's to do this
for me. However, I sometimes make mistakes, and my advisors are here to
help me correct them. They do not make fun of me, but help me to run
the kingdom in its correct form. I have reciprocated this knowledge to
you, my people, in order that you all may become kings and queens in
your own life. I am here to help you in every way, and hope you will
come to me in your time of need, for I was once a beginner too, just
like you."

The crowd then roared with appreciation and happiness for what their
King had done.
He had given them hope in place of despair, triumph in place of
failure. He was truly the
King of King's.

Epilogue

The King was enjoying his newly found circle of friends. He had placed
the young
boy in his employ, as a footman for his carriage. The boy continued to
read and write,
and became infamous for his quotations about life. The little girl was
part of the musical
troupe now, singing and dancing for the royal parties in the castle.
The old man had
charge of the west wing of the castle, schooling the young men and
women to become the new advisory committee to the King's affairs. The
old woman was given free and unlimited passage to travel on the King's
ships; going to the far away places she had only read and dreamed
about.

Life was good, but he had one problem nagging his thoughts. What
happened to the
rogue peasant and his friends? He posed this question to Evictus.

"Why, my Lord, did no one tell you? The peasant and his friends are
dead."

"When did this happen, why was I not informed?" he asked.

"We did not feel the need to tell you, as you seemed so happy with
what we have
accomplished in the last few months."

"Did the peasants have a proper burial?" asked the King.

"Yes, they did. The people came together and buried them in a small
cemetery about three miles from here. The masons carved headstones, and
placed their names on them."

"Tell the boy to ready the carriage, I want to go to this cemetery.
Instruct the little girl
that she is to come with me."

The boy came around with the carriage, the girl, the King, and Evictus
stepped in and
sat down. They proceeded down the road for the three-mile ride. The
trek took over an
hour. The cemetery came into view after they rounded the last curve of
the road.

The King exited the carriage first, with the little girl and Evictus
trailing behind him.
As he approached the small picket fence that surrounded the stones, he
noticed a man
attending one of the graves. He was a large man, taller than even he.
The man stared
blankly as the King neared him.

"Is it you, my King? I am honored to be in your presence." The man did
not flinch as
he said these words.

"Yes, I am your King, and who might you be?"

"I am a friend of this rogue peasant who lies dead before you. I am
the only one left
of us." He waited for the King to speak.

"How did this tragedy come about? Why did these men die?" he
questioned.

"They were arguing and fighting as usual about something petty and
insignificant.
They had no sticks and stones left to hurt each other with. The only
weapons they had
were their fists and the books that you had given them. They used them
against each
other, pummeling and beating themselves with the books, until they were
all dead. I am
ashamed to say I was also a part of this fight, but it was only because
I was trying to
convince them that the books were more valuable as learning tools and
not weapons of
violence, and could bring them wealth and knowledge. I had to defend
myself, though,
and I shamelessly took part in their deaths." He brought his hands from
behind his back.
He held in them two bloodstained books.

"These are the last of the books, the others were beyond repair. I
buried them with
their owners. They did not want to learn how to read and write, and
were not open to
ideas and opinions other than their own. Their way was the only way,
and for that belief,
they died."

The King looked at the man and asked, "What do you intend to do with
the books, my friend?"

He replied quickly. "I shall use them as you suggested, and create a
better world for
myself, for I do not wish to die as these men did, with no hope, no
meaning, and no
future. I will spread the word of the 'Bible' and the 'dictionary' to
all that I meet, and
encourage their use wisely."

"You have made a good choice. Please come with us back to the
kingdom." The King
placed his hand on the man's arm, and led him proudly to his
carriage.

The ride back was quiet, until they came closer to the fields. The
King listened
closely to the song that was being sung by the people, its echoes
reaching far over the
land:

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt
me&;#8230;&;#8230;&;#8230;.."

The End