Hopefully, I will have the opportunity to get back to this. I have quite a few other projects that I want to complete first, but I do want to complete this story.
“Joshua,” another official exclaimed, shooting carping look towards Edgar, “a servant cannot hardly...”
“King Joshua,” the king corrected. The official flashed a look of momentary annoyance before bowing again and uttering a note of apology. “Furthermore,” the king continued, “since I am the king, this gives me the right to grant certain privileges and I wish to use that power now and have this servant sit with us. Is that problem, Volstagg?”
Volstagg did not reply. The other officials nodded their heads in silent agreement.
“Excellent,” the king said before kindly beckoning Edgar to take part in the meal.
“Now why don’t you tell me your name?”
Edgar reluctantly sat down, not wishing to incur the wrath of yet another official, yet also unwilling to disobey the king.
“It’s Edgar. Edgar sir,” he said.
“A wonderful name,” the king exclaimed, “and you did say you are from House 1313, correct?”
“Yes sir,” Edgar declared.
“How is it? Is it like my officials always say: bad-smelling, lazy and grouchy people, spawn house of drunkards and gluttons, an over-resourced place that wastes time and money?” the king tested with a slight tone of amusement.
Edgar thought of his house. It was the place where he had been assigned to since birth. It was a place he both loved and always complained about. He loved his friends. But he and they all complained of the smell, the location, the sleepless nights, and the anger that had all accompanied the fishing and marine life trade. Yet had he ever given thanks to the people who were willing to sacrifice things for him despite their fatigue? Did he ever acknowledge the fact that even though they were the poorest of all the 1400 houses and yet the people were humble, hardworking, and always willing to do good and faithful work.
No he did not. He had been feeding into the same lie the officials had put into his house. Now this king was also being fed with false information.
“His silence and surprise clearly displays that such claims are the truth,” Volstagg said, crunching on the grilled crawfish. “Now please, don’t waste your time with such people; enjoy and let’s continue.”
“Actually,” Edgar snapped, in a tone that was a bit more forceful than he meant, “my people are bad-smelling, and can be grouchy at times. We have to work 18 hours a day to make sure that the fresh seafood is ready. We are not rich. We are not even from the same cultures. Many have immigrated here from other countries. Some see us as a melting pot of all that is low in our world. But I see us as a mosaic where individual stands of color are distinct and together their sum adds a complexity and texture that no single color can generate. We are connected and bound together by our hardship and our labor. Yet we are still willing to serve one another even when our days are long and hard. We...”
Edgar would have liked to continued but he stopped himself mid-sentence. He already knew he had probably said too much. The look of anger in one official’s face said: You are doomed, boy! If he was lucky, he would be fired and thrown into the streets. At worst, he could be tortured to death, have all of his possessions destroyed, see his friends killed, and have his family watch him suffer. His imagination spun scenarios where the consequences were dire and horrifying.
A new hostile air filled the room, working its way into the voices and exclamations of the officials. Volstagg opened his mouth but the king silenced him.
“Do you know why I have the “king’s banquet” every year?” the king asked. “It is because I believe that a ruler must first serve his people. They are the ones he is asked to lead. For a while, the connection between the king and the people has been lost. But you, Edgar, have reminded me why we must connect.”
Edgar could not believe what he was hearing. He looked again into the eyes of young King Joshua. Though they reflected a rash and inexperienced boy who would undoubtedly make mistakes, they also beamed with compassion. May be the future could still burn bright.
“I think, Edgar, I would like to hear more. Sit. Your king is listening.”
With that one invitation, hope sprang to life.
No comments:
Post a Comment