The King, The Seeker, and the Sage -- The End

The rack lay in shambles. Oaken beams had snapped like matchsticks. Steel cables lay curled and frayed like broken strings on a song-less lyre. Residents passed by as workmen, hired by Code Keepers, searched in vain for the seeker’s body. The rubble proved as empty as the hopes of the human flock now scattered in fear of the Keepers.

Rumors swirled like autumn leaves round the Ancient City. Some told of seeing the shepherd . . . ALIVE in the town. Others insisted his scattered flock found him roaming the countryside.

Other rumors were spun like the webs of a spider and tossed to the winds by the Keepers of the Code. The sheep had stolen and hidden the shepherd. This miracle of the missing seeker must to be stifled at all cost.

More troubling now, when the earthquake destroyed the Rack, the book barrier to the king’s chamber had exploded, as if from behind. This revealed the palace gates had been standing open all along. Try as he could, neither Doubter or his witless agents could force those doors closed again.

Despite the protests of the Code Keepers, visitors to the court no longer needed a royal escort or had to complete a religious work detail to gain audience with the Ancient King. 

The shepherd had been right; all one had to do was acknowledged they were the king’s subject to find favor. Upon invitation from a seeker’s friend, anyone could walk into the king’s presence with full acceptance and dine with him.

*    *    *    *    *

The king smiled down from his window high in the palace wall. Bruises and wounds from the Rack were almost healed. The words LIAR and TRAITOR branded in his forehead had almost faded. The stretch marks on his wrists and ankles persisted, a reminded of his sacrifice at the hands of angry, driven, religious men.

“A proof of my quest for their friendship,” he whispered, his fingers tracing over the marks on his left wrist. “Now it is time for the sage.” 

*    *    *    *    *

The sage found them in the meadow where the shepherd had been taken by violent men. They were huddled, quaking at the sound of snapping twigs or creaking wagon wheels.  As the sage approached, they clutched each other even tighter.

“I bring you peace.”

First, it was the head of the oldest sheep that came up to meet the quiet eyes of the Seeker.

“Who are you?” The old man’s voice quivered.

“The one whom the shepherd promised.”

Other heads slowly raised, some expectantly, some in fear, some in relief.

“I have your invitation to the presence of the King,” the sage said, holding out his hand. “Come and I will show you all about him.”

As the sage shared every day about the open court of the king, the crowds of sheep grew once more. Now these sheep were no longer skittish or easily intimidated. Once they were led by the sage into the throne room, they returned to their homes and marketplaces with a boldness and purpose for living.

Their talk of being “friends of the king” was infectious. This only fueled the hatred of the Keepers of the Code. They were furious . . . how could anyone be so flippant about a relationship with THEIR king. Most of all, it angered them people were by-passing their customs and codes revered for generations.

The scribes railed against the sage. They threatened and cajoled their own shrinking flocks of starving sheep.

“He’s a fraud,” they shouted with all the authority they could bluster.  “This sage is only seeking his own glory.”

Some sheep became Followers-of-the-Sage. They studied his ways and teachings. Soon they could quote more of what they claimed the sage said than the seeker or the king.  To immolate the sage became their goal and dream.

This grieved the heart of the sage. To truly follow the seeker was to walk with the sage through the great doors of the palace into the throne room. Here a wonderful surprise awaited each subject of the realm who would accept the invitation to come.

To their surprise, the sage would step to the right side of the throne, shed his robe to reveal he was indeed the seeker. To their greater amazement, the seeker would step before the throne as he shed the garment of a shepherd to expose the vestments of a king.

 
Taking a seat on the throne, the king smiled down at the ones kneeling before him.

“Stand before your king. Raise your eyes and accept my approval. You are no longer subjects, but friends. As you have been known by the sage and seeker, you are known to me. You are welcome and always accepted here.”

Thanks for reading my little tale. More like from my upcoming book.     David