“Perhaps somewhere there is someone else who has more than I,” he thought, and this is what so disturbed his peace of mind. For as with many men who have much (and not only kings), it is only the thought of more which pleases them, or of having less than someone else which haunts their dreams. It was not a generous or a noble thought, yet there it was and there it had persisted for months, intruding on his otherwise perfect happiness. The Queen had noticed his somber mood and did her thoughtful best to cheer him up. The Prince and Princess sang only new songs and even the royal jesters made extra efforts, which did delight him—but not quite as much as they should have. No one knew what it was that bothered the King so. Even the royal physician, after a thorough examination, could find nothing wrong, but in order to be absolutely sure he prescribed several different kinds of pills and a change of scenery. “A fine idea,” the King thought to himself. “I’ll take a trip and see for myself.”
“A marvelous idea,” all the ministers agreed and each of them knew the perfect place to go.
“The Crystal Lagoon,” suggested one, who was fond of fishing.
“The Faroff Valley,” offered another, who had family in the vicinity.
“The Forest of Singing Birds,” said a third, who knew of the King’s fondness for music, and each in turn offered his choice.
But Magnus had other thoughts on his mind. “I have seen and enjoyed all that is in my kingdom,” he said, “but what do I know of the world?” As he spoke his eye searched the enormous map which hung on the wall. In a few moments he stopped and touched the tip of his long pointer to one spot. “I shall visit here,” he said. The ministers stared in horror, for the King had fixed his glance on that parched and unpromising land from which RNP and Goom had so recently departed, and they knew of course, as he didn’t, what a poor and miserable place it was.
The prospect of the trip had restored the King’s spirits and no one could persuade him to go elsewhere. Preparations were quickly made, and that very afternoon Magnus, the Queen, the Prince and the Princess in a golden carriage drawn by eight midnight-black horses with twenty-three supply wagons, seven cooks, five bakers, eleven valets, forty-three assorted servants, and an escort of the King’s own royal guard departed with the heartfelt cheers and wishes of the entire population ringing in their ears.
Back at the palace, however, things were not nearly so gay. A gloomy gathering of the King’s ministers sat worrying about the journey, for the King had never been beyond the borders of his own kingdom before and for all of his life had been shielded from everything but happiness and perfection. It was thought certain by all that the poverty and sorrow of RNP’s poor kingdom would surely make him sad again, and that if there were no cheers, no friendly crowds, no flowers, no flags, his poor heart must surely be broken.
“But what if there are cheers and crowds and flowers and flags,” said one of the ministers suddenly, “and beautiful buildings with shiny brass knobs and paved roads too—and all the things the King has come to expect, and even some he’s never seen.”
“What indeed!” they all agreed, but how it was to be done was another matter.
“It will not be difficult at all,” the minister continued, “for the royal party has taken that road which winds gently through the mountains. It is the easy and the long way around. If we”—and by this time the others were leaning forward in their seats—“if we take the short route, we can be there fully a week before the King and make preparations for his arrival—”
“Why of course!” they shouted. “How simple! Just what I was thinking,” each admitted, and immediately plans were made and messengers dispatched throughout the countryside to inform the people. Because of their love for king and kingdom every man, woman, child, dog, cat and canary volunteered to help, and before the day had passed, the front end of a caravan that seemed to stretch from yesterday to next week had already begun to roll towards the mountains.
Down the royal road and out of the capital city they went, hundreds of wagons and carts packed with people and tools, pots of paint, buckets of nails, bags of mortar and numberless crates filled with the kinds of things that are always very useful if only you have them at the time you need them.
The royal architect had brought along his entire staff, plus pencils, erasers, T-squares, drawing boards, measuring tapes and blueprints for building everything from a palace to a bird bath. The carpenters had their saws and axes gleaming sharp. The masons, plasterers and painters itched to begin their work. The seamstresses were already sewing flags and bunting and the royal gardener was busy transporting every conceivable variety of tree and flowering bush as well as four wagons full of rich manure. It took hours for the gay and noisy caravan to pass, but before long all that remained was a cloud of dust and the echo of their many gay songs. A strange silence settled over Magnus’s kingdom, for everyone—everyone—had gone.
Unaware of what was happening on the other side of the mountains, RNP and Goom, riding and walking by turns, continued slowly along their unhappy way across the steep and rocky trails. To Goom’s surprise, the trip was proceeding much better than expected. It was true, of course, that it had rained almost continuously and that they had taken several wrong turns and that they had forgotten to bring matches or blankets or clean socks, but they had only almost been drowned in a cataract and not completely buried in an avalanche, and the one time that they were waylaid by bandits, the startled outlaws had been so moved by RNP’s plight that they gave him everything they owned.
Magnus, though, was enjoying himself immensely. On his side of the mountain the sun shone continuously with only an occasional soft breeze to interrupt its steady warmth, almost as a reminder of how good it felt. The great golden coach glided easily along the broad country road and the days were filled with picnics and song, armfuls of flowers, large juicy apples and afternoon naps in the high meadows. As they drew ever nearer to RNP’s kingdom, the happy King, save for his one distant doubt, could hardly conceive of a happiness to equal his.
And so they traveled—Magnus and RNP—RNP and Magnus—one seeking more happiness and the other, less misery.
Meanwhile, hurrying by day and by night without stop or rest, the eager caravan arrived finally at the wretched and joyless state which RNP called home. With no time to spare, everything was quickly unloaded and work begun. “Quick, bring the ladder here!”—“Nails, more nails!”—“Out of the way! Out of the way!”—“Pick it up!”—“Put it there!”—“Let it go!”—“Put it down!”—“Paint it purple!”
Instructions and orders, shouts and suggestions mingled in the air with the clangs, clashes, buzzes and bumps of work being done, and even the local citizens, who understood little and cared less, paused to watch as the city was transformed before their eyes. All the buildings were carefully repaired and painted, windows replaced, delicately carved cornices and pediments added where appropriate, steps rebuilt, and all hinges, locks, knobs, handles and hooks polished until the brasswork shone like precious metal. The streets were leveled and paved and a line of decorative linden trees was planted from the new palace to the edge of the city. Charming flowerbeds in intricate geometric patterns were planted in the public gardens and the bright flags which were flown from every top and tower slapped at the wind as if to announce, “Look, we’re new!” Everything that could be moved was repaired and everything else was scrubbed, and in seven days and nights the job was done, the tools put away, the wagons hidden and the waiting begun. One lone sentry was posted in the tallest tree to signal the King’s coming and as a final touch garlands of flowers were strung throughout the night.
The very next morning, King Magnus’s carriage appeared in the distance, and as the sentry’s signal sounded, eager and anxious faces filled the streets. As he drew closer and closer the excitement mounted. The busy ministers, staying carefully out of sight, bustled about giving instructions and as the golden coach entered the city a wave of cheers and shouts swept forward to meet it—and then another and anot
her and again and again until the waves became an ocean which seemed to engulf the King. The band struck up an inspiring medley of marches as the crowd strained forward, and up ahead scores of children carpeted the ground with rose petals. Slowly and majestically the coach moved forward as the King acknowledged the joyful crowds.
“What a beautiful city this is!” said the Queen. “The people are so friendly it’s almost as if we knew them.” The King continued to smile and wave, and the crowd to cheer. On they drove, past the palace, which had been entirely rebuilt of beautiful salmon-colored brick, and the public square with its new marble fountain sending delicate streams of water into the air.
“One certainly could ask for no more,” said the Prince, who was more than pleased with everything. At that the King seemed to smile a little less and grew thoughtful.
Up the avenue and under the eaves of the brightly painted houses and shops they continued. Geraniums, petunias and violets tumbled over each other from every windowbox and fine merchandise was tastefully displayed in all the shop windows.
“It really couldn’t be better,” cried the delighted Princess, turning round and round so as not to miss anything. And now the King stopped smiling entirely.
“What a fortunate man must rule in this beautiful country,” everyone agreed, and as they reached the far end of the city with the shouts and happy cries still echoing, a frown appeared on Magnus’s face—for what must have been the first time in his life. The seed of that one small doubt he had carried with him for so long had now blossomed into a flower of discontent. His suspicions, it seemed, had all been true.
“Everyone has as much as I,” he thought unhappily, “and who knows how many have more?”
All his happiness was gone, for the long journey had only proved what he feared most. And so he ordered the carriage to turn down the road towards the mountains, and without a word or a smile they headed for home.
But no cheers and no crowds greeted RNP when after many, many days of difficult travel he and Goom finally crossed over into Magnus’s kingdom. By this time their clothes were even more ragged than when they had set out and the poor mule was hardly able to complete the last stages of the trip. In the distance lay the city, the magnificent city that Magnus had left. But there had been changes here too. In one of those unexplainable turns that nature sometimes takes, a great storm, the first for many years, had ripped and raged across the countryside. Whether or not it was the result of vagrant winds or an unfortunate conjunction of the stars or simply the weather’s angry reply to those who had left this favored valley untended cannot be said, but trees had been uprooted and scattered about, roofs carried off, windows broken, houses hurled to the ground or sorely battered and everything covered with layers of mud and debris—and now no one was there to set it right. It seemed a much different city when RNP and Goom came at last to the outskirts. The last heavy grey clouds of the storm still hung overhead and the muddy and empty streets were strewn with bits and pieces of trees and buildings. Many of the shutters and doors hung crazily by one hinge or else had dropped off altogether and all the flags and banners and flowers were gone. “Just as I suspected,” Goom grumbled, for it fulfilled all his melancholy expectations. And the King, now hunched sadly on the little mule, rode on into the deserted city. The squish of their footsteps echoed strangely in the quiet and all around the windows frowned down on them.
“It is far worse than your own kingdom,” continued Goom as they passed the silent palace, stepping carefully over several fallen trees. The south wing had been caved in by a toppled oak and several of the turrets and a balustrade had simply disappeared, giving it all a sad and ruined look. The slightest smile unexpectedly tugged at the corners of RNP’s mouth.
“No one has even come out to bid you welcome,” Goom went on as they turned into the now dismal public square (he wished merely to point out to RNP the folly of his ways). The shops, which had been boarded up when everyone had gone, remained so, and the market stalls were now strewn about everywhere. And the King now smiled a broad and happy smile. Then as they reached the far end of the city and the row of mud-spattered and dingy houses gave way to flattened fields, he laughed, for perhaps the first time that anyone could remember.
“I was wrong,” he cried happily, as he brushed the mud from his ragged cloak. “See for yourself, no king lives better than I. I have as much as anyone.” And even though nothing had changed he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his heart.
Suddenly the grey and overcast day was just perfect, the future bright, and even his thoroughly disreputable appearance the height of fashion.
“Come, come, Goom!” he shouted impatiently. “It’s time we were returning to our own beautiful kingdom.”
With a wave of his tarnished crown and a last look at the exquisite desolation he was leaving behind him, RNP turned the puzzled mule in the direction from which they’d come. And as he galloped down the road, poor Goom, who was doing his best to keep up (for it is difficult to complain and run both at the same time), fell further and further behind.
So the two kings traveled towards home and this is where we must leave them, for what they found on their return and how they lived their lives from then on is, of course, another story. To Magnus everything now seemed like nothing, and to RNP nothing had become quite enough. One was happy and the other sad, and perhaps it is not unreasonable to expect that on the long, arduous ride back, each of them might have wondered why.
Norton Juster, Alberic the Wise and Other Journeys
(Series: # )
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