It was the night before the day fixed for
his coronation, and the young King was sitting alone in his beautiful
chamber. His courtiers had all taken their leave of him, bowing their
heads to the ground, according to the ceremonious usage of the day, and
had retired to the Great Hall of the Palace, to receive a few last
lessons from the Professor of Etiquette; there being some of them who
had still quite natural manners, which in a courtier is, I need hardly
say, a very grave offence.
The lad - for he was only a
lad, being but sixteen years of age - was not sorry at their departure,
and had flung himself back with a deep sigh of relief on the soft
cushions of his embroidered couch, lying there, wild-eyed and
open-mouthed, like a brown woodland Faun, or some young animal of the
forest newly snared by the hunters.
And, indeed, it
was the hunters who had found him, coming upon him almost by chance as,
bare-limbed and pipe in hand, he was following the flock of the poor
goatherd who had brought him up, and whose son he had always fancied
himself to be. The child of the old King's only daughter by a secret
marriage with one much beneath her in station - a stranger, some said,
who, by the wonderful magic of his lute-playing, had made the young
Princess love him; while others spoke of an artist from Rimini, to whom
the Princess had shown much, perhaps too much honour, and who had
suddenly disappeared from the city, leaving his work in the Cathedral
unfinished - he had been, when but a week old, stolen away from his
mother's side, as she slept, and given into the charge of a common
peasant and his wife, who were without children of their own, and lived
in a remote part of the forest, more than a day's ride from the town.
Grief, or the plague, as the court physician stated, or, as some
suggested, a swift Italian poison administered in a cup of spiced wine,
slew, within an hour of her wakening, the white girl who had given him
birth, and as the trusty messenger who bare the child across his
saddle-bow, stooped from his weary horse and knocked at the rude door of
the goatherd's hut, the body of the Princess was being lowered into an
open grave that had been dug in a deserted churchyard, beyond the city
gates, a grave where, it was said, that another body was also lying,
that of a young man of marvellous and foreign beauty, whose hands were
tied behind him with a knotted cord, and whose breast was stabbed with
many red wounds.
Such, at least, was the story that men whispered to each
other. Certain it was that the old King, when on his death-bed, whether
moved by remorse for his great sin, or merely desiring that the kingdom
should not pass away from his line, had had the lad sent for, and, in
the presence of the Council, had acknowledged him as his heir.
And it seems that from the very first moment of his recognition
he had shown signs of that strange passion for beauty that was destined
to have so great an influence over his life. Those who accompanied him
to the suite of rooms set apart for his service, often spoke of the cry
of pleasure that broke from his lips when he saw the delicate raiment
and rich jewels that had been prepared for him, and of the almost fierce
joy with which he flung aside his rough leathern tunic and coarse
sheepskin cloak. He missed, indeed, at times the fine freedom of his
forest life, and was always apt to chafe at the tedious Court ceremonies
that occupied so much of each day, but the wonderful palace - Joyeuse,
as they called it - of which he now found himself lord, seemed to him to
be a new world fresh-fashioned for his delight; and as soon as he could
escape from the council-board or audience-chamber, he would run down
the great staircase, with its lions of gilt bronze and its steps of
bright porphyry, and wander from room to room, and from corridor to
corridor, like one who was seeking to find in beauty an anodyne from
pain, a sort of restoration from sickness.
Upon these
journeys of discovery, as he would call them - and, indeed, they were
to him real voyages through a marvellous land, he would sometimes be
accompanied by the slim, fair-haired Court pages, with their floating
mantles, and gay fluttering ribands; but more often he would be alone,
feeling through a certain quick instinct, which was almost a divination,
that the secrets of art are best learned in secret, and that Beauty,
like Wisdom, loves the lonely worshipper.
Many
curious stories were related about him at this period. It was said that a
stout Burgomaster, who had come to deliver a florid oratorical address
on behalf of the citizens of the town, had caught sight of him kneeling
in real adoration before a great picture that had just been brought from
Venice, and that seemed to herald the worship of some new gods. On
another occasion he had been missed for several hours, and after a
lengthened search had been discovered in a little chamber in one of the
northern turrets of the palace gazing, as one in a trance, at a Greek
gem carved with the figure of Adonis. He had been seen, so the tale ran,
pressing his warm lips to the marble brow of an antique statue that had
been discovered in the bed of the river on the occasion of the building
of the stone bridge, and was inscribed with the name of the Bithynian
slave of Hadrian. He had passed a whole night in noting the effect of
the moonlight on a silver image of Endymion.
All rare and costly materials had certainly a great
fascination for him, and in his eagerness to procure them he had sent
away many merchants, some to traffic for amber with the rough
fisher-folk of the north seas, some to Egypt to look for that curious
green turquoise which is found only in the tombs of kings, and is said
to possess magical properties, some to Persia for silken carpets and
painted pottery, and others to India to buy gauze and stained ivory,
moonstones and bracelets of jade, sandalwood and blue enamel and shawls
of fine wool.
But what had occupied him most was the
robe he was to wear at his coronation, the robe of tissued gold, and the
ruby-studded crown, and the sceptre with its rows and rings of pearls.
Indeed, it was of this that he was thinking to-night, as he lay back on
his luxurious couch, watching the great pinewood log that was burning
itself out on the open hearth. The designs, which were from the hands of
the most famous artists of the time, had been submitted to him many
months before, and he had given orders that the artificers were to toil
night and day to carry them out, and that the whole world was to be
searched for jewels that would be worthy of their work. He saw himself
in fancy standing at the high altar of the cathedral in the fair raiment
of a King, and a smile played and lingered about his boyish lips, and
lit up with a bright lustre his dark woodland eyes.
After some time he rose from his seat, and leaning against the carved
penthouse of the chimney, looked round at the dimly-lit room. The walls
were hung with rich tapestries representing the Triumph of Beauty. A
large press, inlaid with agate and lapis-lazuli, filled one corner, and
facing the window stood a curiously wrought cabinet with lacquer panels
of powdered and mosaiced gold, on which were placed some delicate
goblets of Venetian glass, and a cup of dark-veined onyx. Pale poppies
were broidered on the silk coverlet of the bed, as though they had
fallen from the tired hands of sleep, and tall reeds of fluted ivory
bare up the velvet canopy, from which great tufts of ostrich plumes
sprang, like white foam, to the pallid silver of the fretted ceiling. A
laughing Narcissus in green bronze held a polished mirror above its
head. On the table stood a flat bowl of amethyst.
Outside he could see the huge dome of the cathedral,
looming like a bubble over the shadowy houses, and the weary sentinels
pacing up and down on the misty terrace by the river. Far away, in an
orchard, a nightingale was singing. A faint perfume of jasmine came
through the open window. He brushed his brown curls back from his
forehead, and taking up a lute, let his fingers stray across the cords.
His heavy eyelids drooped, and a strange languor came over him. Never
before had he felt so keenly, or with such exquisite joy, the magic and
the mystery of beautiful things.
When midnight
sounded from the clock-tower he touched a bell, and his pages entered
and disrobed him with much ceremony, pouring rose-water over his hands,
and strewing flowers on his pillow. A few moments after that they had
left the room, he fell asleep.
And as he slept he
dreamed a dream, and this was his dream. He thought that he was standing
in a long, low attic, amidst the whirr and clatter of many looms. The
meagre daylight peered in through the grated windows, and showed him the
gaunt figures of the weavers bending over their cases. Pale,
sickly-looking children were crouched on the huge cross-beams. As the
shuttles dashed through the warp they lifted up the heavy battens, and
when the shuttles stopped they let the battens fall and pressed the
threads together. Their faces were pinched with famine, and their thin
hands shook and trembled. Some haggard women were seated at a table
sewing. A horrible odour filled the place. The air was foul and heavy,
and the walls dripped and streamed with damp.
The young King went over to one of the weavers, and stood by him and watched him.
And the weaver looked at him angrily, and said, 'Why art thou watching me? Art thou a spy set on us by our master?'
'Who is thy master?' asked the young King.
'Our master!' cried the weaver, bitterly. 'He is a man like
myself. Indeed, 'there is but this difference between us that he wears
fine clothes while I go in rags, and that while I am weak from hunger he
suffers not a little from overfeeding.'
'The land is free,' said the young King, 'and thou art no man's slave.'
'In war,' answered the weaver, 'the strong make slaves of the
weak, and in peace the rich make slaves of the poor. We must work to
live, and they give us such mean wages that we die. We toil for them all
day long, and they heap up gold in their coffers, and our children fade
away before their time, and the faces of those we love become hard and
evil. We tread out the grapes, and another drinks the wine. We sow the
corn, and our own board is empty. We have chains, though no eye beholds
them; and are slaves, though men call us free.'
'Is it so with all?' he asked.
'It is so with all,' answered the weaver, 'with the young as
well as with the old, with the women as well as with the men, with the
little children as well as with those who are stricken in years. The
merchants grind us down, and we must needs do their bidding. The priest
rides by and tells his beads, and no man has care of us. Through our
sunless lanes creeps Poverty with her hungry eyes, and Sin with his
sodden face follows close behind her. Misery wakes us in the morning,
and Shame sits with us at night. But what are these things to thee? Thou
art not one of us. Thy face is too happy.' And he turned away scowling,
and threw the shuttle across the loom, and the young King saw that it
was threaded with a thread of gold.
And a great terror seized upon him, and he said to the weaver, 'What robe is this that thou art weaving?'
'It is the robe for the coronation of the young King,' he answered; 'what is that to thee?'
And the young King gave a loud cry and woke, and lo! he was in
his own chamber, and through the window he saw the great honey-coloured
moon hanging in the dusky air.
And he fell asleep again and dreamed, and this was his dream.
He thought that he was lying on the deck of a huge galley that
was being rowed by a hundred slaves. On a carpet by his side the master
of the galley was seated. He was black as ebony, and his turban was of
crimson silk. Great earrings of silver dragged down the thick lobes of
his ears, and in his hands he had a pair of ivory scales.
The slaves were naked, but for a ragged loincloth, and each man was
chained to his neighbour. The hot sun 'beat brightly upon them, and the
negroes ran up and down the gangway and lashed them with whips of hide.
They stretched out their lean arms and pulled the heavy oars through
the water. The salt spray flew from the blades.
At
last they reached a little bay, and began to take soundings. A light
wind blew from the shore, and covered the deck and the great lateen sail
with a fine red dust. Three Arabs mounted on wild asses rode out and
threw spears at them. The master of the galley took a painted bow in his
hand and shot one of them in the throat. He fell heavily into the surf,
and his companions galloped away. A woman wrapped in a yellow veil
followed slowly on a camel, looking back now and then at the dead body.
As soon as they had cast anchor and hauled down the sail, the
negroes went into the hold and brought up a long rope-ladder, heavily
weighted with lead. The master of the galley threw it over the side,
making the ends fast to two iron stanchions. Then the negroes seized the
youngest of the slaves, and knocked his gyves oil, and filled his
nostrils and his ears with wax, and tied a big stone round his waist. He
crept wearily down the ladder, and disappeared into the sea. A few
bubbles rose where he sank. Some of the other slaves peered curiously
over the side. At the prow of the galley sat a shark-charmer, beating
monotonously upon a drum.
After some time the diver rose up out of the water, and
clung panting to the ladder with a pearl in his right hand. The negroes
seized it from him, and thrust him back. The slaves fell asleep over
their oars.
Again and again he came up, and each time
that he did so he brought with him a beautiful pearl. The master of the
galley weighed them, and put them into a little bag of green leather.
The young King tried to speak, but his tongue seemed to cleave
to the roof of his mouth, and his lips refused to move. The negroes
chattered to each other, and began to quarrel over a string of bright
beads. Two cranes flew round and round the vessel.
Then the diver came up for the last time, and the pearl that he brought
with him was fairer than all the pearls of Ormuz, for it was shaped like
the full moon, and whiter than the morning star. But his face was
strangely pale, and as he fell upon the deck the blood gushed from his
ears and nostrils. He quivered for a little, and then he was still. The
negroes shrugged their shoulders, and threw the body overboard.
And the master of the galley laughed, and, reaching out, he took
the pearl, and when he saw it he pressed it to his forehead and bowed.
'It shall be,' he said, 'for the sceptre of the young King,' and he made
a sign to the negroes to draw up the anchor.
And
when the young King heard this he gave a great cry, and woke, and
through the window he saw the long grey fingers of the dawn clutching at
the fading stars.
And he fell asleep again, and dreamed, and this was his dream.
He thought that he was wandering through a dim wood, hung with
strange fruits and with beautiful poisonous flowers. The adders hissed
at him as he went by, and the bright parrots flew screaming from branch
to branch. Huge tortoises lay asleep upon the hot mud. The trees were
full of apes and peacocks.
On and on he went, till he reached the outskirts of the
wood, and there he saw an immense multitude of men toiling in the bed of
a dried-up river. They swarmed up the crag like ants. They dug deep
pits in the ground and went
From the
darkness of a cavern Death and Avarice watched them, and Death said, 'I
am weary; give me a third of them and let me go.'
But Avarice shook her head. 'They are my servants,' she answered.
And Death said to her, 'What hast thou in thy hand?'
'I have three grains of corn,' she answered; 'what is that to thee?'
'Give me one of them,' cried Death, 'to plant in my garden; only one of them, and I will go away.'
'I will not give thee anything,' said Avarice, and she hid her hand in the fold of her raiment.
And Death laughed, and took a cup, and dipped it into a pool of
water, and out of the cup rose Ague. She passed through the great
multitude, and a third of them lay dead. A cold mist followed her, and
the water-snakes ran by her side.
And when Avarice
saw that a third of the multitude was dead she beat her breast and wept.
She beat her barren bosom and cried aloud. 'Thou hast slain a third of
my servants,' she cried, 'get thee gone. There is war in the mountains
of Tartary, and the kings of each side are calling to thee. The Afghans
have slain the black ox, and are marching to battle. They have beaten
upon their shields with their spears, and have put on their helmets of
iron. What is my valley to thee, that thou should'st tarry in it? Get
thee gone, and come here no more.
'Nay,' answered Death, 'but till thou hast given me a grain of corn I will not go.'
But Avarice shut her hand, and clenched her teeth. 'I will not give thee anything,' she muttered.
And Death laughed, and took up a black stone, and threw it into
the forest, and out of a thicket of wild hemlock came Fever in a robe of
flame. She passed through the multitude, and touched them, and each man
that she touched died. The grass withered beneath her feet as she
walked.
And Avarice shuddered, and put ashes on her
head. 'Thou art cruel,' she cried; 'thou art cruel. There is famine in
the walled cities of India, and the cisterns of Samarcand have run dry.
There is famine in the walled cities of Egypt, and the locusts have come
up from the desert. The Nile has not overflowed its banks, and the
priests have cursed Isis and Osiris. Get thee gone to those who need
thee, and leave me my servants.'
'Nay,' answered Death, 'but till thou hast given me a grain of corn I will not go.'
'I will not give thee anything,' said Avarice.
And Death laughed again, and he whistled through his fingers,
and a woman came flying through the air. Plague was written upon her
forehead, and a crowd of lean vultures wheeled round her. She covered
the valley with her wings, and no man was left alive.
And Avarice fled shrieking through the forest, and Death leaped upon
his red horse and galloped away, and his galloping was faster than the
wind.
And out of the slime at the bottom of the
valley crept dragons and horrible things with scales, and the jackals
came trotting along the sand, sniffing up the air with their nostrils.
And the young King wept, and said: 'Who were these men and for what were they seeking?'
'For rubies for a king's crown,' answered one who stood behind him.
And the young King started, and, turning round, he saw a man
habited as a pilgrim and holding in his hand a mirror of silver.
And he grew pale, and said: 'For what king?'
And the pilgrim answered: 'Look in this mirror, and thou shalt see him.'
And he looked in the mirror, and, seeing his own face, he gave a
great cry and woke, and the bright sunlight was streaming into the
room, and from the trees of the garden and pleasaunce the birds were
singing.
And the Chamberlain and the high officers of
State came in and made obeisance to him, and the pages brought him the
robe of tissued gold, and set the crown and the sceptre before him.
And the young King looked at them, and they were beautiful. More
beautiful were they than aught that he had ever seen. But he remembered
his dreams, and he said to his lords: 'Take these things away, for I
will not wear them.'
And the courtiers were amazed, and some of them laughed, for they thought that he was jesting.
But he spake sternly to them again, and said: 'Take these things
away, and hide them from me. Though it be the day of my coronation, I
will not wear them. For on the loom of Sorrow, and by the white hands of
Pain, has this my robe been woven. There is Blood in the heart of the
ruby, and Death in the heart of the pearl.' And he told them his three
dreams.
And when the courtiers heard them they looked
at each other and whispered, saying: 'Surely he is mad; for what is a
dream but a dream, and a vision but a vision? They are not real things
that one should heed them. And what have we to do with the lives of
those who toil for us? Shall a man not eat bread till he has seen the
sower, nor drink wine till he has talked with the vinedresser?'
And the Chamberlain spake to the young King, and said,
'My lord, I pray thee set aside these black thoughts of thine, and put
on this fair robe, and set this crown upon thy head. For how shall the
people know that thou art a king, if thou hast not a king's raiment?'
And the young King looked at him. 'Is it so, indeed?' he
questioned. 'Will they not know me for a king if I have not a king's
raiment?'
'They will not know thee, my lord,' cried the Chamberlain.
'I had thought that there had been men who were kinglike,' he
answered, 'but it may be as thou sayest. And yet I will not wear this
robe, nor will I be crowned with this crown, but even as I came to the
palace so will I go forth from it.'
And he bade them
all leave him, save one page whom he kept as his companion, a lad a year
younger than himself. Him he kept for his service, and when he had
bathed himself in clear water, he opened a great painted chest, and from
it he took the leathern tunic and rough sheepskin cloak that he had
worn when he had watched on the hillside the shaggy goats of the
goatherd. These he put on, and in his hand he took his rude shepherd's
staff.
And the little page opened his big blue eyes
in wonder, and said smiling to him, 'My lord, I see thy robe and thy
sceptre, but where is thy crown?'
And the young King
plucked a spray of wild briar that was climbing over the balcony, and
bent it, and made a circlet of it, and set it on his own head.
'This shall be my crown,' he answered.
And thus attired he passed out of his chamber into the Great Hall, where the nobles were waiting for him.
And the nobles made merry, and some of them cried out to
him, 'My lord, the people wait for their king, and thou showest them a
beggar,' and others were wroth and said, 'He brings shame upon our
state, and is unworthy to be our master.' But he answered them not a
word, but passed on, and went down the bright porphyry staircase, and
out through the gates of bronze, and mounted upon his horse, and rode
towards the cathedral, the little page running beside him.
And the people laughed and said, 'It is the King's fool who is riding by,' and they mocked him.
And he drew rein and said, 'Nay, but I am the King.' And he told them his three dreams.
And a man came out of the crowd and spake bitterly to him, and
said, 'Sir, knowest thou not that out of the luxury of the rich cometh
the life of the poor? By your pomp we are nurtured, and your vices give
us bread. To toil for a hard master is bitter, but to have no master to
toil for is more bitter still. Thinkest thou that the ravens will feed
us? And what cure hast thou for these things? Wilt thou say to the
buyer, "Thou shalt buy for so much," and to the seller, "Thou shalt sell
at this price?" I trow not. Therefore go back to thy Palace and put on
thy purple and fine linen. What hast thou to do with us, and what we
suffer?'
'Are not the rich and the poor brothers?' asked the young King.
'Aye,' answered the man, 'and the name of the rich brother is Cain.'
And the young King's eyes filled with tears, and he rode on
through the murmurs of the people, and the little page grew afraid and
left him.
And when he reached the great portal of the
cathedral, the soldiers thrust their halberts out and said, 'What dost
thou seek here? None enters by this door but the King.'
And his face flushed with anger, and he said to them, 'I
am the King,' and waved their halberts aside and passed in.
And when the old Bishop saw him coming in his goatherd's dress,
he rose up in wonder from his throne, and went to meet him, and said to
him, 'My son, is this a king's apparel? And with what crown shall I
crown thee, and what sceptre shall I place in thy hand? Surely this
should be to thee a day of joy, and not a day of abasement.'
'Shall Joy wear what Grief has fashioned?' said the young King. And he told him his three dreams.
And when the Bishop had heard them he knit his brows, and said,
'My son, I am an old man, and in the winter of my days, and I know that
many evil things are done in the wide world. The fierce robbers come
down from the mountains, and carry off the little children, and sell
them to the Moors. The lions lie in wait for the caravans, and leap upon
the camels. The wild boar roots up the corn in the valley, and the
foxes gnaw the vines upon the hill. The pirates lay waste the sea-coast
and burn the ships of the fishermen, and take their nets from them. In
the salt-marshes live the lepers; they have houses of wattled reeds, and
none may come nigh them. The beggars wander through the cities, and eat
their food with the dogs. Canst thou make these things not to be? Wilt
thou take the leper for thy bedfellow, and set the beggar at thy board?
Shall the lion do thy bidding, and the wild boar obey thee? Is not He
who made misery wiser than thou art? Wherefore I praise thee not for
this that thou hast done, but I bid thee ride back to the Palace and
make thy face glad, and put on the raiment that beseemeth a king, and
with the crown of gold I will crown thee, and the sceptre of pearl will I
place in thy hand. And as for thy dreams, think no more of them. The
burden of this world is too great for one man to bear, and the world's
sorrow too heavy for one heart to suffer.'
'Sayest thou that in this house?' said the young King,
and he strode past the Bishop, and climbed up the steps of the altar,
and stood before the image of Christ.
He stood before
the image of Christ, and on his right hand and on his left were the
marvellous vessels of gold, the chalice with the yellow wine, and the
vial with the holy oil. He knelt before the image of Christ, and the
great candles burned brightly by the jewelled shrine, and the smoke of
the incense curled in thin blue wreaths through the dome. He bowed his
head in prayer, and the priests in their stiff copes crept away from the
altar.
And suddenly a wild tumult came from the
street outside, and in entered the nobles with drawn swords and nodding
plumes, and shields of polished steel. 'Where is this dreamer of
dreams?' they cried. 'Where is this King, who is apparelled like a
beggar - this boy who brings shame upon our state? Surely we will slay
him, for he is unworthy to rule over us.'
And the
young King bowed his head again, and prayed, and when he had finished
his prayer he rose up, and turning round he looked at them sadly.
And lo! through the painted windows came the sunlight streaming
upon him, and the sunbeams wove round him a tissued robe that was fairer
than the robe that had been fashioned for his pleasure. The dead staff
blossomed, and bare lilies that were whiter than pearls. The dry thorn
blossomed, and bare roses that were redder than rubies. Whiter than fine
pearls were the lilies, and their stems were of bright silver. Redder
than male rubies were the roses, and their leaves were of beaten gold.
He stood there in the raiment of a king, and the gates of the
jewelled shrine flew open, and from the crystal of the many-rayed
monstrance shone a marvellous and mystical light. He stood there in a
king's raiment, and the Glory of God filled the place, and the saints in
their carven niches seemed to move. In the fair raiment of a king he
stood before them, and the organ pealed out its music, and the
trumpeters blew upon their trumpets, and the singing boys sang.
And the people fell upon their knees in awe, and the
nobles sheathed their swords and did homage, and the Bishop's face grew
pale, and his hands trembled. 'A greater than I hath crowned thee,' he
cried, and he knelt before him.
And the young King
came down from the high altar, and passed home through the midst of the
people. But no man dared look upon his face, for it was like the face of
an angel.
