Once there lived a king who had power over all nations and people. His courts
were of richest splendor; his tables were heavy with the finest food. Music and
laughter floated from the castle. Clouds wrapped it in ethereal majesty.
Peasants, in their valley of violence and hunger, stopped and looked at the
castle for a long while, wishing they might know the king. But none were able to
reach it.
In the cold of winter, the king’s tailor entered the royal chamber with the
latest additions to the king’s wardrobe. He had selected the finest materials
and woven them into the most beautiful garments the eye had ever seen.
But the king was not pleased. He ordered the tailor out, vowing to make
his own clothes. The door to the throne room was shut and locked. Weeks
passed. The royal court waited with anticipation to see what the king would
make for himself. They knew they were bound to be blinded by the glory of it.
Finally, the awaited day arrived. The door opened and the king appeared.
Everyone, especially the tailor, gasped in surprise. His majesty was
dressed in the simplest, cheapest, most unkinglike garments imaginable. He
had the choice of the world’s finest materials, but he had chosen to wear the
clothes of a beggar.
“I am going into the valley,” he said quietly.
By Michael Daves
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