The Tale of the Sorrowful King

by Nina Rosewood

ONCE UPON A TIME there was a king in a very great country, and he was sorrowful. No one understood what he was sorrowful about, and he himself least of all. It began every day as soon as he rose from his bed. Then he would sigh and sit brooding to himself.

His servants tried to cheer him. They summoned jugglers to the court, who performed the most splendid feats, with magic tricks and fireworks, and conjured doves out of thin air that fluttered about the throne room. But it was of no use.

The loveliest dancers were brought in. They tried to entice and flatter the king’s eyes, but he paid them no heed. The cooks prepared the choicest dishes and had costly delicacies brought from every corner of the land, and set them before the king on the festively laid table. The servants sought out the most interesting dinner companions to cheer the king with witty conversation. But the king only poked listlessly at his food, barely touched it, and had it carried away.

At last the whole country grew sorrowful, since nothing helped. A special minister was appointed whose only task was to cheer the king. But one after another came and went, sooner or later, for all was in vain.

“There is no helping him,” said the simple folk in the streets and in the inns, “but it is a sorrowful thing, and all is no longer well in our land either.”

And indeed, for some time now the poor harvests had been piling up. The cows and sheep were more prone to sickness than before and gave less milk. Trade came to a standstill, because strangers began to avoid the land.

In the mountainous part of that country there grew up a shepherd boy who knew nothing of all this. Every day he woke early, washed himself in the clear water of a mountain spring, and wandered the whole long blessed day with his sheep over mountains and through valleys. In the evening, when he had grown tired, he counted his sheep. He checked the bell each one wore about its neck, made his fire, ate and drank, and lay down beneath the stars. He was happy without knowing it, for he did not think about such things.

One day he came with his flock near the royal palace. He marveled at the proud towers, the thick walls, the gardens, and the flags waving on the roofs. He had never seen such a thing before, and he was greatly astonished. But when he looked more closely at the building and the gardens, he noticed how ruined the walls were, how neglected the gardens, how faded the flags.

The grass stood high, and he decided to go and ask whether he might let his flock graze there. The guards allowed it, and patiently his sheep ate away the tall grass until the meadow looked as if it had been swept clean. Some passersby suddenly remembered how merry feasts had once been celebrated in those gardens. The servants told the king of it. But he wanted to know nothing of it and, as always, stared dully before him.

When evening came, the shepherd boy sat by his fire, looked out over the meadow, took up his flute, and played a simple melody upon it.

At the same time, the king lay under many silken covers in the bedchamber of his castle and sought sleep. But however he tried to stop up his ears with pillows, the sound of the flute passed through the thick walls of the castle, through the closed windows, through the silken covers and pillows, and reached the king’s ear. First he listened crossly, then in wonder. At last he left his bed, stepped to the window, and saw the little fire and the shepherd boy playing.

The next morning he had his servants fetch the boy, and when the boy entered the throne room, surrounded by two guards, the king looked at him sternly.

“I had you brought here,” he said, “because last night you disturbed my sleep with your piping outside. Why did you do that?”

“Oh, forgive me, Your Majesty,” said the boy. “I meant no harm. I was only making music because I was glad.”

“Why were you glad?”

“I am always glad! It is so beautiful in the world. I go about all day with my animals, and they trust me. I walk through the meadows, and above me is the sky. The sun shines, and when it rains and is cold, I almost always find shelter with a farmer and may sleep in the fragrant hay. And if I do get soaked through once in a while, my clothes dry again in the end all by themselves. That is why I play my flute in the evening.”

“Play for me on your flute, boy. I command it.”

“But I cannot do that, Your Majesty, even if I wished to. I can only do it outside, in the evening, after the long day with my sheep. Tell me, O King, is all this your kingdom? You must be immeasurably rich and happy!”

The king wanted to tell the boy that he was not happy but very sorrowful. But he paused and looked at the boy searchingly. The boy grew somewhat uneasy, for the king said nothing. Had he perhaps, without knowing it, spoken foolishness?

“It is truly as I tell you, Your Majesty!” stammered the boy. “Will you not come with me and see that it is really so?”

“All my kingdom,” muttered the king. “Immeasurably rich and happy, am I? Very well. I will go with you and see whether it is truly so. Servants, saddle my horse and fetch my riding gear and my squires!”

“Oh, but Your Majesty,” said the boy, “that will not do with a horse. You would frighten my sheep. It can only be done on foot! And only you, without your retinue. The animals would run away from us!”

Now the chamberlain stepped forward.

“If Your Majesty is truly resolved to go with this boy alone,” he said carefully, “then perhaps, for Your Majesty’s safety, it would be wise if Your Majesty were not known at once. With Your Majesty’s gracious permission, Your Majesty might put on the clothes of an ordinary man.”

The king had never done such a thing in all his life. The matter began to seem more and more exciting to him. He had the simple clothing of a farmer brought to him and put it on. Then he went outside with the boy.

No one paid any attention to him. This too had never happened to him in all his life, and he walked in astonishment beside the boy.

They came to the sheep in the meadow. The boy gathered them and led them to another place. The king walked beside him in wonder. They walked and walked. When they grew tired, they sat down in the grass and drank milk. In the evening they made a fire. The boy played, and the king listened. At last they grew tired and fell asleep outside.

The next morning they woke early. The grass was wet with morning dew; everywhere the drops glittered like pearls and diamonds.

“You see, Your Majesty,” said the boy, pulling a simple loaf of bread from his bag and giving half to the king, “that is why I am so happy in your kingdom. Everything is beautiful.”

The king looked around him. He saw the sun, the colored morning sky, the glittering drops of dew. He heard the bells of the sheep, breathed in the scent of the fresh grass, and chewed his bread. Tears came to his eyes, and he looked at the boy.

“I never knew the world was so beautiful,” he said at last, “and you have shown it to me. I did not know my own kingdom, and now I am learning to know it. And you have given me back to myself. Now I know again why I have sorrow. I wanted a child who would be my successor. The queen and I had one, but one day he disappeared and was never found again. Then I became desperate and swore never to think of it again. I forgot my lost child, and even my queen. No one was allowed to remind me of them. Since I am the king, they all followed and obeyed me, until truly no one remembered anymore. And then you came and showed me my kingdom. You shall be my successor. Tell me, child, will you accept this? Will you become the new king?”

The shepherd boy consented and became king. The old king helped him rule, and together they tended the sheep. The old queen was brought home in festive procession from the distant castle to which she had been banished.

The people of the land grew increasingly glad and enterprising. All went well again in the land. Trade flourished, and feasts were celebrated once more. The rulers of the neighboring land offered him their princess in marriage, and she and the young shepherd king fell in love at once.

One day an ancient farming couple came to the palace and told a strange tale of a child who had lost his way and had grown up with them. He had not known his parents, had always called them his king and his queen, and had spoken confused things about palaces and servants. But he had a good heart, and so they had made him into a shepherd boy.

Then everyone understood that this had been the shepherd king. He himself recognized them and bestowed rich gifts upon the old people, so that they need never worry again for the rest of their lives. He thanked them and said:

“You did not know it, but you redeemed us all and made us better people. For from you I learned to love the world in which one lives. From you I learned to be thankful for the sky, for bread, and for a warming fire. You made me king of this land.”

The old king and queen bowed low, and when they died, glorious roses grew upon their graves, though no one ever knew where they had come from.

The shepherd king and his wife lived long and happily, and they had a prince and a princess.

But that is another tale.

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