Once, there was a king who hated everyone who wasn’t like himself.
He was a rich man, from a long line of rich men, going back further than even he knew. He had everything he had ever wished for; silk robes, a jeweled crown, and a kingdom of people overwhich to reign. Servants to cook his meals, soldiers to fight his wars. A council of Elders to advise him on every subject.
It is all very well, he thought, having advisors. They are wise, it is true. But they are too trusted amongst my people. They cannot be tolerated.
So the king went to his most trusted servant, a reliable man of noble heritage, and instructed him to burn down one of the temples. The servant did so, knowing better than to ask for an explanation.
With the temple up in flames, the people of the kingdom were enraged. They started pointing fingers, assigning blame, until the king stepped in. “I have discovered the culprits of this crime,” he announced. “And I am sorry to say that it was the Elders of the city. They hoped that by destroying a holy place, more people would come to them for counsel.” And so he exiled the Elders to a distant land across the sea, and watched smugly as they went.
Time passed. The king grew richer still. He had more jewels, more silks. More servants, more soldiers. Thousands of peasants to grovel at his feet.
And yet, he was not satisfied.
Peasants are dangerous, he thought to himself. They revolt. They start revolutions. They cannot be tolerated.
And so once again the king went to his trusted servant, and this time told him to poison the city well. The servant did so, somewhat reluctantly, but knowing better than to protest.
With the well water undrinkable, the people of the kingdom panicked, and then searched for someone to blame. The king gave them one. “It was the poor!” he declared. “The homeless! They have poisoned our well.” And so he sent the peasants away.
This is working quite well, decided the king. I will find a way to banish everyone who is not like me, and then I will finally have my people. I will finally have a kingdom fit for my rule.
The next time, he had the servant rob the granaries. And again;
“It was the immigrants!”
And again;
“The women!”
And again.
Rich, poor, old, young, merchants and farmers, mothers and sons. One by one, all of them were sent away.
One day, the king looked up from his throne to realize that his courtroom was empty. There ought to have been two guards posted at the door, but no one was there.
Annoyed, the king rose from his seat and marched off to the entrance hall to find someone to order around. And yet, no one was there.
What is this nonsense? thought the king. Where are my servants? He rang the servant’s bell. He stomped up and down the halls, and then finally pushed through the front doors, and stomped into the city square.
It was utterly silent.
So the king climbed the stairs to the tallest tower, where one of the castle guards had a looking glass that allowed you to see things very far away, and he peered through it over the ocean. This is what he saw.
On the far side of the ocean, a city had been formed. There were beautiful houses made of wood and stone, with spiraling turrets and wide streets in between. And there, in the city, going about their lives, were thousands of people.
Rich. Poor. The old, the young. Merchants and farmers, mothers and sons. His people. The people he had sent away. They had built a new life, one the other side of the sea. He had banished everyone who wasn’t like himself, and now he was utterly alone.
The king returned to his castle. He returned to his jewels and gold, with no one to polish them. He returned to his table, with no one to serve his meals. He returned to his throne, with no one to grovel at his feet.
And the people he exiled? The people living across the sea? They lived on in contentment, enjoying their lives. Grateful for a change to start again.
Glad to be free.
He was a rich man, from a long line of rich men, going back further than even he knew. He had everything he had ever wished for; silk robes, a jeweled crown, and a kingdom of people overwhich to reign. Servants to cook his meals, soldiers to fight his wars. A council of Elders to advise him on every subject.
It is all very well, he thought, having advisors. They are wise, it is true. But they are too trusted amongst my people. They cannot be tolerated.
So the king went to his most trusted servant, a reliable man of noble heritage, and instructed him to burn down one of the temples. The servant did so, knowing better than to ask for an explanation.
With the temple up in flames, the people of the kingdom were enraged. They started pointing fingers, assigning blame, until the king stepped in. “I have discovered the culprits of this crime,” he announced. “And I am sorry to say that it was the Elders of the city. They hoped that by destroying a holy place, more people would come to them for counsel.” And so he exiled the Elders to a distant land across the sea, and watched smugly as they went.
Time passed. The king grew richer still. He had more jewels, more silks. More servants, more soldiers. Thousands of peasants to grovel at his feet.
And yet, he was not satisfied.
Peasants are dangerous, he thought to himself. They revolt. They start revolutions. They cannot be tolerated.
And so once again the king went to his trusted servant, and this time told him to poison the city well. The servant did so, somewhat reluctantly, but knowing better than to protest.
With the well water undrinkable, the people of the kingdom panicked, and then searched for someone to blame. The king gave them one. “It was the poor!” he declared. “The homeless! They have poisoned our well.” And so he sent the peasants away.
This is working quite well, decided the king. I will find a way to banish everyone who is not like me, and then I will finally have my people. I will finally have a kingdom fit for my rule.
The next time, he had the servant rob the granaries. And again;
“It was the immigrants!”
And again;
“The women!”
And again.
Rich, poor, old, young, merchants and farmers, mothers and sons. One by one, all of them were sent away.
One day, the king looked up from his throne to realize that his courtroom was empty. There ought to have been two guards posted at the door, but no one was there.
Annoyed, the king rose from his seat and marched off to the entrance hall to find someone to order around. And yet, no one was there.
What is this nonsense? thought the king. Where are my servants? He rang the servant’s bell. He stomped up and down the halls, and then finally pushed through the front doors, and stomped into the city square.
It was utterly silent.
So the king climbed the stairs to the tallest tower, where one of the castle guards had a looking glass that allowed you to see things very far away, and he peered through it over the ocean. This is what he saw.
On the far side of the ocean, a city had been formed. There were beautiful houses made of wood and stone, with spiraling turrets and wide streets in between. And there, in the city, going about their lives, were thousands of people.
Rich. Poor. The old, the young. Merchants and farmers, mothers and sons. His people. The people he had sent away. They had built a new life, one the other side of the sea. He had banished everyone who wasn’t like himself, and now he was utterly alone.
The king returned to his castle. He returned to his jewels and gold, with no one to polish them. He returned to his table, with no one to serve his meals. He returned to his throne, with no one to grovel at his feet.
And the people he exiled? The people living across the sea? They lived on in contentment, enjoying their lives. Grateful for a change to start again.
Glad to be free.
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