now i'm left with nothing
what an awful price to pay
He used to have dreams where his life sat before him, like a great tree, with powerful roots, a hearty trunk, branches that filled that sky full of leaves that rested in the breeze.
A great tree, like the one the old Rabbi had used to talk about. The night after his great banquet, though; he had a new dream that replaced the one about the tree…
That night, specters closed in around him. All night, the nearer ones got nearer; and the further ones got nearer. Until one pounced upon him, and with a ghastly finger pointed, the specter crowed, “who killed the man.” The others yelped back, “he did! He did!
All night he dreamt of the specters. He couldn’t see them clearly, as through his eyes. They were dim and wavy, as though he saw them through a glass, dimly…
Now it was almost noon and he still wasn’t out of bed. It had been a rough morning…
Rolling over he tries to remember last night.
The banquet. In honor of himself, sure, but he is the king after all. The birthdate of a king is a big day.
The timing couldn’t have been any better, either. Lately there had been rumors that he was an ineffective king; and what, with the public opinion turning against him, his brother’s had been eyeing his crown…
Everything came together for the banquet, though. The guest list was just so; a regular who’s who of Galilee. Everyone showed up too, and things couldn’t have started any better.
He enjoyed seeing the palace all decked out, he loved the wine that was being served and he took in the smell of the main course roasting…
Until, that is; until his daughter came and put on a dance for everyone.
Now he wasn’t particularly impressed; but hey, the guests seemed taken. So he stood, clapped his hands magnanimously. And then; after a pregnant pause, looked at the girl. “Tell you what,” he said, smirking, “ask me for anything you want and I’ll give it to you. You have my word.”
He sat back down, happy with himself. Things really were going well.
Who could have said he wasn’t a good king after doing something so kind, so gracious?
Before he realized his daughter hadn’t come up asking for a pony or Porsche, though, he noticed the crowd. They were scratching their heads, acting funny…
Instead of asking for the new car; the girl had left.
Things felt a little awkward, so he raised his glass, and everyone hoisted their’s in return.
He had saved the party.
He hadn’t even set the glass down, however, before the girl came back. She had figured out what she wanted; John the Baptist’s head, on a platter…
John the Baptist.
The two of them had gotten cross-ways when John spoke out about the girl’s mother. Well, their marriage actually. He had married her, and John had been saying he shouldn’t have.
And of course he shouldn’t have, she was his brother’s wife, for heaven’s sake.
John, that desert preacher; what did he know about politics? That marriage proved which of the brothers held more power. Sure he shouldn’t have married her, but what did that have to do with anything?
John wouldn’t shut up about it, though; so finally he had to lock John up.
And once; once when John was in prison, he went down there to see what the guy was all about. John preached even there, and although it was all a little too much for him, he liked to listen.
When his wife would try to get him to just kill John, he wouldn’t. John was alright. Plus, he had already locked John up, what harm could he do there in prison?
He protected John, and occasionally he’d go down to listen to him…
Only now; now the girl was asking for John’s head…
He didn’t want to grant her wish…
But then, like the waves from the Sea of Galilee, his promise came washing back into his head. “Anything you want, you have my word.”
He looked around, all the guest were watching him. A few were even whispering to one another.
He knew what they were whispering about; wondering if he would stay true to his word. He knew about they thought, that he was weak-willed, that he couldn’t follow through…
So he called the guard, and with as much nonchalance as he could muster said, “go to the prison, bring me John’s head. Put it on a platter even.” Then, to make sure everyone knew he couldn’t care less, he took a platter full of hors d’oeuvres, and dumped them on the table. He took that platter and handed it to the guard.
“Use this,” he laughed, for a reason even he wasn’t sure of. Then raised his glass.
…Everyone was a little more hesitant this time, but finally they raised their glasses in return too.
This wasn’t turning out how he expected, but at least it wasn’t a total disaster. If nothing else, no one could say he wasn’t magnanimous. No one could say he didn’t have a spine. No one could say he wouldn’t follow through…
The party went on; but all too quickly the guard came back with the head of John the baptist lying there.
That face he had seen preaching, was now resting on the very platter he had dumped the appetizers from less than an hour ago.
He felt queasy, but tried not to show it.
“Well; give it to the girl, you fool,” he bellowed.
He grabbed his glass to give another toast, but it didn’t seem right. So instead, he just finished it.
Thankfully the girl took John’s head on that wretched platter and gave it to her mother.
Not long after, many of the guest excused themselves.
He feigned indifference and raised his glass. “More for us,” he crowed; emptying his glass before setting it back down.
When they brought in the main course he passed, his stomach still a little uneasy. He raised his glass, though. A dish fitting his honor.
The guests who stayed all made a toast in his honor, he made sure of that. And with each tribute, he finished his glass…
…Now lying there on his bed, he tries to remember how long the party lasted, how many people raised their glass to him.
The memories are mostly hazy, though. Except for one. As one of the guests left, his brother actually, he overheard him say, “outsmarted by a little girl.”
He had pretended not to hear, but one of the courtiers got pale and asked if he had overheard the treachery. He had just walked away, and glared at one of the guest he thought hadn’t made a toast to him yet…
Tossing on the bed, now he wishes he hadn’t tried to remember last night. He’d just as well forget it.
Then, there’s an urgent knock on his door. His head officer comes in.
“Sir,” he says, pausing. “Well, I didn’t want to bother you this morning, but there’s something you should know… There has been this wandering preacher; we’re told he can heal people and cast out demons too.
Now, we weren’t going to bother you about him; but we’re told that last night a crowd of five-thousand followed him out to the wilderness to hear him preach.”
Great, just what I need now; he thought to himself…
“But sir,” the officer says, trying to get the king’s attention back.
“When nightfall came, instead of sending the crowd away, he threw a banquet. He fed each and every person there; five-thousand…”
“Who is this fellow,” he says.
“Well, sir, some are saying he is one of the prophets of old, or even Elijah.”
He turns over in bed. Now he understands his dream.
“I know who it is,” he replies.
“Sir?” The officer asks.
“It’s John the Baptist whom I beheaded,” he whimpers…
He can’t get comfortable
He would try to fall back asleep; but won’t dare, for the specters that await. He would get up, but the throbbing in his head makes the prospect too daunting.
His stomach murmurs. He would order a meal, but he’s still nauseous. He’s hungry, but too sick to eat.
Comments
Post a Comment