The king

As evening set foot upon the city walls, the guard standing at the small window of the grand gate twirled his mustache. At the same time, under the wings of birds returning home, the traveler standing near that small window brushed the dust off his clothes. He took a deep breath, struck his walking stick firmly against the ground, cleaned his native shoes with the feather slung over his shoulder, and spat out a phlegm-laden cough caked with dust from the road. He swung the bundle in his hand a little, then reached into the long pocket stitched into his shirt under his right arm. Finding his coins safe, he smiled — and a leaf from some distant tree fell from the salt-and-pepper hairs of his beard. He moved forward.

The guard, still twirling his mustache, paused for a moment. Then it seemed as if there was a stir behind the window — the sound of footsteps, weapons, and faint laughter suddenly broke upon it like a small invasion.

The traveler now had one foot forward and one behind.

The guard placed his mouth near a tiny hole in the window and asked,
"Who goes there? Man or creature?"

The laughter behind the window grew louder. The guard picked up something like a horn and blew into it, producing a conch-like sound that echoed all around. In that swirling resonance, the birds perched on nearby trees fluttered their wings — and in the very next moment, closed their eyes as if nothing had happened at all.

“Sir, where have you come from? What is your purpose in coming here?”
“I have come from very far away, after a long journey, to meet the King.”
“A long, faraway journey... the King? But why do you want to meet the King?”
“That, I will tell only the King.”
The guard leaned back and said something to someone behind him, “Here we go, another case.”
Once again, a fountain of laughter erupted behind the window.
The traveler—seeming to shrink a little—spat on the ground and looked intently at the guard.
“I want to come inside. Let me in.”
“It’s evening now, sir,” the guard said. “The gate will open only in the morning.”
“So until then, where am I to go? What should I do?”
Pointing to a side, the guard replied, “See there? Many like you—men and wanderers—are camped out, waiting for the gate to open in the morning.”
“But I... my matter is urgent. I must meet the King very soon.”
“First, you’ll need a special entry permit just to get inside the city. After that, you must get an audience pass from the royal office to meet the King. Just wait here. Wait for morning.”
Seeing the traveler persist, the guard suddenly winked mysteriously and said in a low voice, “Well... there is one way.”
“What is it?”
“Come closer.”
The traveler leaned in. The guard whispered something in his ear. The traveler recoiled in shock.
“A bribe? But I’m against that!”

“Then fine—step back, I’m closing the window.”
“No, no, wait! My matter isn’t personal. I was sent…” the traveler stammered.
“Oh brother! Will you keep stuttering or say something useful? Don’t waste my time. Get lost and join the others.”
“Wolves?” the traveler shuddered. He thought for a moment, then placed a few roasted chickpeas on the guard’s hand. The guard laughed and pushed them away. The traveler then produced a monkey-head coin. The guard flipped it in his palm and quickly opened the window.
“Come in, brother.”
The traveler stepped inside. The window shut behind him.

Inside the city, lights shone brightly. Men, women, the elderly, and children all moved about. Loud music played at roadside eateries. The aroma of various foods filled the air.
The traveler felt hungry. He sat down and ate his roasted chickpeas. Feeling thirsty, he approached a hotel. A large, dark-skinned man sat at the counter.
“Water!” the traveler said, dryly.
“If you want water, show me the dog-head coin.”
“Water has a price?” he griped.
“Keep your ‘where you come from’—if you want water here, bring out the dog-head coin.”
He reluctantly placed the coin on the counter. A clay cup filled with water was handed to him.

He drank, returned the cup, and wiped his wet hands on his beard.
A large crowd had gathered nearby. He glimpsed a street performer breathing fire, with people tossing bull-head coins at him.
Dodging the crowd, the traveler bumped into a uniformed man with black stripes on his shoulders.
“Where are you heading? You don’t have an entry permit?”
The traveler realized he’d forgotten to get a permit.
The uniformed man demanded to see it.
“I entered illegally?”
He was grabbed roughly and dragged into a long corridor, then a large room.
A bulky man in a blue uniform dozing behind a desk opened his eyes.
“What’s this?”
“This one’s illegal—no permit.”
“Speak up!” the blue-uniformed man demanded.

“The gate guard let me in without a permit.” the traveler explained.
The man laughed.
“So you greased his palm, huh? And me? If you place two vulture-head coins, I’ll issue a retroactive permit. Otherwise, jail.”
Terrified, the traveler handed over a vulture-head coin, and complied with the demand for two donkey-head coins. He got the official permit and relief washed over him.
Exhausted, he collapsed at the stable by the inn, sweating in the heat, too tired to move until night. He didn’t eat or have coins left except for a single lion-head gold coin, his tribe’s emblem. He wouldn’t give that up as a bribe.
Torn between returning home and fulfilling his mission, he wandered until he reached a bustling alley.
An aging, fair-skinned woman beckoned him from a low platform.
“You’re a traveler, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am. I am.”
“You look so tired. If your pockets are heavy, come—I’ll give you comfort.”
“My pockets are empty,” he said. “I’m thinking of leaving this cruel city at dawn.”
“The magic of this royal city turned me to stone. I was once human, now a puppet, a wild wandering soul.”

“Come, come. Just follow me tonight.”
He followed her to a modest, jasmine-scented room. She washed his face, cleaned his beard, offered him naan and kebabs. He ate despite his protests.
She listened and wept.
“I may be a courtesan, but I’m a woman too, and I can help you meet the king. But you must promise: when you return home, mention me to your people—a discarded woman from this unkind city who helped you. That will be my reward.”
He nodded.
She set to work: arranged new clothes, shoes, shaved him, gave him the lion-head coin—reminding him only the king was legally allowed to keep it. She gave him additional coins: bat, lizard, jackal, mole, rat, alley cat, mongoose, and mountain crow head coins, to bribe officials.
He thanked her. She, with tears, bid farewell. He set out that night.

With the coins, he passed every obstacle and reached the king’s chamber.
The king said, “I hear you have a lion-head coin. Legally only the king may possess it. Hand it over, then present your petition.”
The traveler paused, smiled, then laughed.
“Why are you laughing?” asked the king.
“I laugh because… if simply possessing a lion-head coin makes one the king, then…”
“With a poisonous smile, the traveler leapt like a leopard and grabbed the king by the neck.”

☆☆☆