The Unlikely King

Bloodied, dirty, and beaten, the beggar stumbled his way from village to village desperately searching for anything that could alleviate his ailing state. From tavern to cathedral he knocked on many doors to no avail. He was violently turned away at every threshold like a pinball in a machine destined to lose. People hated him for who he had become. Their sneers, laughter, and mockery penetrated his battered heart and distinctly reminded him of the depths at which he had fallen. The son of a king turned peasant farmer to beggar on the streets. How could this be? He wondered. I had everything and lost it all. Although the pain and suffering from living for so many years with minimal food, clothing and shelter was immense, it was nothing compared to the guilt and shame the beggar continually endured as he reflected on his previous life.

His father, the king, had given him so much. The kingdom and everything in it was his to enjoy. Work didn’t exist in this world. He had a family - a beautiful wife and many children. They were happy. Often, you could hear his children giggling as they ran through the courtyard playing hide and seek behind the lush groves of multi-colored rose bushes. The castle that his father, the king, had built him was constructed using only the finest materials in all the land. He was deeply loved by his father, the king. Daily, they’d spend hours walking and talking together in the garden and although the kingdom had many things to enjoy, this topped them all. His father, the king, would tell him things about the kingdom and his plans for it. He would remind him of how much he loved him and how special he was. This thought stung the most. It had been many, many years since the son, turned peasant, turned beggar had chosen to leave his father’s kingdom. Time made him wonder if he was even remembered, if what he’d done could ever be forgiven. The lack of answers to the plaguing onslaught of deep shame and regret sunk the beggar deeper and deeper into misery. The beggar’s tears were the only welcomed relief as they warmed his frostbitten face.

Meanwhile, in the kingdom, the regularity of the magnitude of voices singing praises to the king proved how much he was adored by all who lived within the kingdom realm. The very pillars of his throne room would tremble as his praises were sung. Unlike other kings, he was a good king and a completely fair king. He governed his kingdom in a way unlike kings govern, and he truly loved the people of his kingdom. He kept their best interests in mind and peace was maintained throughout all of the realm. Draped around the king’s broad shoulders was a crimson colored robe with white trim that flowed from the throne where he was seated to the entrance of the throne room. Atop his head sat a gold crown of the most precious and rarest jewels in all the kingdom. He had everything he needed and the kingdom belonged to him. At the motion of his hand, his servants would drop what they were doing and stand in loving attention to their king. They were devoted to him as he was to them. However, the king could no longer look past the aching in his heart for something more. Although he had everything, he grieved.

One night as he lay in his bed, he thought about his son that had, many years ago, chosen to turn his back on him and the kingdom. The gaping hole his son had left in his heart was wide and never repaired. Not a second passed that the king’s mind wasn’t on his son. This particular night, however, was different. He tossed and turned and realized something must be done! He didn’t want the kingdom if he couldn’t have his son that he loved so much with him. So the king did something that was very unlike a king to do. Without a moment’s notice, the king hurriedly got out of bed, put on a tunic and packed up his bag. In it, he put his crown and his robe. Sneaking through the hallways of his magnificent castle, he made his way to the horse stables where he found a donkey amongst the knight’s horses. He chose the donkey because a horse from his kingdom would have been a dead giveaway. So he saddled up the donkey and rode off into the cold winter’s night. The search for the king’s son, turned peasant farmer, turned beggar had begun.

Leaving the safety of his kingdom was, he knew, very dangerous and an exploit that was highly unlikely for a king to undertake. He knew that if anyone found out who he was before the proper time, the mission would be foiled and he might never see his son again. He had to blend in as best he could. Because he was a good king, he was good at knowing people. He knew the hearts of all and he understood the implications of trekking into the outer realm where people feared what they did not know and did not recognize. Fear could lead to many unpleasant things. He was well aware what could and would result as he left paradise, but he loved his son so much that he was willing to go to any length to get him back.

Years passed and the king had yet to find his beloved son. Bloodied, dirty, and beaten, the king, now without a donkey, stumbled his way from village to village desperately searching. From tavern to cathedral he knocked on many doors to no avail. He was violently turned away at every threshold by people that couldn’t see him for who he was. In the many years that had passed since he departed from his kingdom that cold winter night, only a few had opened their doors to let him in. The others sneered, laughed, and mocked him unwilling and unable to recognize that he was the king. Because his focus was so set on finding his precious son, he bore the ridicule and the pain without uttering a word; very unlikely of a king who could have had a multitude of soldiers to defend him at a simple command.

As he journeyed to the next village still in the pursuit, he saw something move off in the distance. Through his blood shot and sweat filled eyes, he squinted to see what it could be and made out what looked to be a sack of something that had fallen over under a large oak tree. Leaving no stone unturned in the search for his son, he stepped off the dusty path and barreled through the thorns and thistles to get a closer look. The pain he had previously endured at the hands of the townspeople intensified as thorns pierced his already bruised and bloodied feet. This didn’t stop him but did reduce his limp to a crawl. The king got closer and excitement filled his soul realizing this was indeed a man and he had reached him just in the knick of time. As the thorns that had pierced his feet drove through his hands, he crawled over to the barely breathing body. The joyful anticipation of finding this person who could be his son proved to outweigh the pain as he flipped the man over. Peering intensely at his face, the king’s eyes welled up with tears. As they fell on his son’s face, the beggar opened his eyes and the king quietly whispered, “you were lost, my son, but now you have been found”. Then the king did something very unlikely of a king to do. He turned to his bag and pulled out his crown made of gold and his crimson red robe. Instead of putting it on his own head and his own shoulders, he gently placed the crown on his son’s head and the crimson red robe on his son’s shoulders. And with his scarred hands, he held his son tight and said, “today you will be with me in paradise”.

To be continued…