The chalice

One day in a kingdom not too far away, a lonely prince sat by his window carving wood. This was his passion, to sit at dawn’s first light, chiseling away small chinks from a block, watching it revealing its secrets and listening to the knife speak. In the early morning, as the bells pealed  low, he would sit and dream. Dreaming was his other passion.

The prince would look in many books and dream of distant lands, lands where he would fit in, where he would not feel like an outcast, the piece of the puzzle with no purpose in the picture. He dreamt of soft light and the scent of rose, an understanding human companion; and as he dreamt, it was if time stood still.

The prince’s father was a warrior, but the prince was not. His father would come into his tower room and yell, “You are yellow, not of my seed, why can’t you be a real son, a bull, strong and courageous?”

His mother was obedient to his father, and beautiful, and idle. She had never shown much interest in him and her attention was on the intricate brocade dresses, and precious jewels she could accumulate, and on the games she could play whilst the king was away.

He was an only child, a loner, satisfied with his own company and that of the knife. He loved taking long walks on the land, enjoying the freedom and openness, the companionship of the animals, and looking for special pieces of wood to carve.

As he sat carving, he was always aware that he had a power and a voice in him, a power as courageous as his father’s, and as beautiful as his mother’s. He felt that when the time was right, it would awaken and be revealed.

And so it came, that one day as he sat at the break of day, listening to the calming pealing of the bells, dreaming of Eldorado, that suddenly and without warning, in his hand, his knife fell silent. His hand stopped moving and the hilt lost its glow. The prince laid down the instrument, descended the stairs and went to the forest to think about this. He was a calm and steady youth, and not prone to brash reaction.

After walking long and far, he stopped to rest on a log in the shade. Nearby a little monkey played, at ease in the prince’s company. The prince lost himself in observing the little creature’s antics. As he watched, the monkey ran to a nearby stump, and seemed to say, ‘’ Look, take this one with you”.

The prince was a little startled, and wondered if it really could be the monkey talking to him. Again he heard a sure voice in his head, “Believe what you hear, and take this one”. The prince examined the little log and found it to be quite ordinary.  Also he thought about his knife, so suddenly mute, and wondered how things would move forward. Deciding to trust the moment, he picked up the wood and made his way back to his bare tower room.

He did not sleep well, although he was exhausted, and got up at first light as was his habit. He sat looking at the new wood, and picked up the knife that had lost its song and fire.

As he sat with an empty mind, he began to scratch the surface absentmindedly until slivers of the timber started falling to the ground. He carved faster and faster, and throughout the day, from this ordinary piece of wood, emerged a lovely smooth solid dark goblet. He was so relieved to hear the humming of the knife, and feel his connection to it and the wood he carved.

As he finished, he heard a great hullabaloo under his window. The great king from the neighbouring land came charging up to the palace gates with his daughter at his side and one hundred thundering troops on horses behind.

‘’Where is the man who stole wood from my land?’’,  he bellowed. The prince’s father came storming up the stairs, “Have you done this thing, you useless boy?’’

The prince was upset and puzzled at this sudden attention and as he stood at the window listening to his father approaching with a heavy tread, his fingers released the cup, which fell out of the window. As that chalice fell, it was as if everything around him moved into a silent space. Everyone was looking up, holding their breath, watching that cup in slow motion as it spinned and hurtled towards the ground.

The neighbor  king  held out his hand, his hand met the cup and grasped it, and  for a moment no one moved or spoke. In a flash, the man who held the cup was on his knees, with his daughter beside and the troops behind, his breastplate shining in the sun.

“Prince, you have unwittingly revealed the age-old treasure which was hidden in the wood by an evil sorcerer many moons ago. You have done what my own court magicians have never been unable to do.  You have restored this priceless treasure and symbol of enlightenment to my family. As a reward, I offer you my daughter’s hand and a slice of my kingdom. I would be honoured to invite you into my family.”

What happened then? The king and queen went completely white and were completely speechless.

The prince had the last words,

“I accept your offer graciously, and hope never to disappoint you. For me the greatest gift was that I which I found within myself”.