Announcing himself first, with rattling saber, was the king’s field marshal and commander of the army.  Next came the stablemaster and supervisor of the royal horses.  Then came the storemaster and chamberlain of the palace and its grounds.  The chancellor arrived to announce the condition of the royal treasury.  The chief cook emerged from his kitchen to ask what it would please His Majesty to eat that day.  The chief gardener would supply the vegetables, the king’s shepherd would bring a sheep to be slaughtered, and the supervisor of fisheries would send fresh fish by the bucketful.

Finally the young king noticed an old man who had not spoken at all.  “What is your work, old man?” asked the king.  “I am your storyteller, sire,” the man answered, bowing so low that his white beard touched the floor.  The king frowned. “I am no longer a child.  I need no stories,” spoke he. “With respect, Your Majesty,” spoke the old man, bowing again, “but then you would be like that blind man.” “Which blind man?” asked the king.  The storyteller bowed and spoke.

The blind man. “A blind man was traveling through the desert with a group on their way to Mecca.  One morning, as he was waking up, he found what he thought was a stick lying next to him.  It was long and rigid.  It was, in fact, a long snake that had become stiff and numb during the cold night.  The blind man rose and picked up the snake, thinking to use it as a staff. “Throw that away before it is too late.  What you are holding there is a poisonous snake!” Thus cried another traveler, but the blind man did not trust him, thinking he wanted to have the staff for himself.  So the blind man clung to the snake, which, in the rays of the rising sun, soon thawed, regained consciousness, and bit the blind man so he died.”

The young king reflected for a while and then answered his storyteller.  “That is true, a blind man does not know when he is holding a snake.  However, the king is not blind and can recognize a snake when it comes near.” “That is true, great king,” replied the storyteller, “but the king can see things only the way the falcon could see them.” “Which falcon?” asked the king.  The storyteller bowed and began to speak.

The falcon. “A falcon said to a hen, ‘You are so ungrateful.  Your mistress gives you food while you have nothing to do all day! Look at me! My master uses me to hunt for him.  Catching partridges and pheasants is hard work, I assure you!’ ‘Maybe so,’ replied the hen, ‘but at least you are not kept to be killed and eaten.’